Flown

 
This world has turned
through many days,
though I have failed to count them;
and just beyond what I can know
and what has been forgotten flow
the rubric and the love.
Your heart has sent
your gentle thoughts
above, and boldly there;
they prod to hold –
to make all close –
and dare the gods forsake them.
So little else but thanks at best
and hope to feel unowned,
a restless world grown heavy to
these lonely prayers now flown.