"Blessed is the man, who having nothing to say, abstains from giving wordy evidence of the fact."
- George Eliot
Until Tomorrow
The red stream flowsbright like the morning sun
through the clouds
of a million yesterdays,
uncounted for an afternoon's tears
Flows through your heart
burning up every
intention of learning,
of yearning, of getting even
and yet you weep still
for your fallen champion
as he withers in your chest
and drowns in your stream,
swelling up to your
lily-white eyes
blooming salty drops of
regret
until the coming of
the morning light
- Stephen W. Brodie
