Style

What life shall I make
A life of my own stake
Style and guile
Take me around
I hope its found
Before this life goes into the next
And the ship crashes into the wrecks
And the decks
Rot away

And all that I have to say
Is silenced and waylaid
Across the stars and time
Perhaps without rhyme

I walk this day
My own way
With a fey
A muse of heart and soul
As she cajoles
At my spirit

Helping me to again feel it
What was once thought to be lost
Was just lying as quiet as a mouse
But at last I sense it again in my house