We had faith in the turns of your foundation.
What we’ve buried now, to a world magnificent
in space, in perjury of time, and in will – sheer will.

Take easy the tide, cold still with summer.
A vengeance of these sand stiles, walking over,
breathless, heedless, south of all borders. 

A service to the godhead; he remarked
on your Over Soul – these were parodies
of your once so righteous conditions.

Take a nickel or a dime for my vocation.
I have learned it; it’s had its use for me.
Guided as we were by indecision – taught 

Improvisation. We had faith in the turns of
your foundation. What we’ve buried now,
to a world magnificent in song, we are ended.