“But Time, which Nature doth despise……makes Hope a fool..”
Sir Walter Raleigh

Sir Raleigh cursed god Time without respite,
For Time in his depravity promised
Only a drying up; fragility
Of dust; the loss of wit and lust’s sweet rut.
At least, he thought.   But Hope implies a wish.
What was your wish Sir Walter Raleigh, Sir?
A youth eternal? “Yes! Get real old man!

Why would Nature despise old Time,
who in his laxity and joy, allows her
her endless creations and enjoyments,
savoring of the exotic you yourself sought.
Time in his laxity allowed you to be,
as he did the tree and myths of gold
and, yes that executioner’s ax, too.
“Strike, man strike!”

What was that careening zing that passed my ear?
Could it be an atom repurposed from your spilt blood,
(when they took your head) now an invisible speck
in a mote of dust (your despised dust) whirling in air?
Though not in your preferred form, you still exist
in physicality as well as in histories memories.
What more could you have wished, Sir Walter, Sir?