The Fool

On death's bed
The fool now lies
No tiresome
Tales of woe

No defiant fight
Embraces night
Long sleep
Comes too slow

Lived it large
Quixote's charge
On limping horse
Aback

Yet came to see
That nothing's free
No rival
To attack

Tunnel vision
Beam so bright
A loving God?
The One?

Looks to it
Then turns away
One last song
Unsung