An Endless Sea with a Broken Beginning

As a number left the midst of numbers many more than none

Midnight was a matter of question, relatively relating no tale but one

Of sorrow, not of love nor hate but of something worse still

Sadness leeches out of this tale if it can your heart fill

Beginning an end but not ending the beginning that was once so long ago

Yet the sad story has a voice of its own and is but anything other than mellow

This story is so stranger, well, It has a beginning but has no end

The end can't be seen but the beginning is broken beyond mend

Not physically nor otherwise, nor a crack nor knot,

No skirmish exists here yet a rift plays its rot

Hands are tied beyond compare and legs nailed to the floor

And yet you see no end nor beginning save but an invisible door

Of what use is this door that cannot you see nor feel

And worse still it is that no one can see a seal

binding on the feet and hands without amends or pain

But harder still it is to see that all the traps have been lain

To see no choice ahead is bad enough but to see no problem is the worst there is

And to find no farewell or ending note is something that's sorely amiss

No seal can bind again this rift today; nor a boon will tomorrow

And this one thing is that which chills many-a-hardened marrow

No eyes can express guilt for deeds, nor any unnecessary denial

And yet you know that no potion will mend, no matter how large the phial

Sands won't record this fate, but stones will narrate the tale

Yet no carver nor novice engraved, and the sands now face the gale

No king nor slight ever has a story such, and yet each man has a great story to tell

This is but a humble one, but what makes you think this is mine to reveal ?

Cry you may if the tears you find, but sob do not for its not over yet

See the water harden the sand and the magma embellish it and set

And that which was unintended now has indeed become a halo

But no pipe or lute nor any flute nor a viola nor cello

Will ever help compose a lay as this for it is a man's life

And what a life it is indeed, to lie unaided in the rock

Even no bard nor poet dared ever to openly it mock

No corpse you see nor spirit felt, no hero and no villain here,

But what a tale it is indeed, fear not, for it isn't so near

A meddler he wasn't nor a peddler, nor a Count nor King

And you wonder aloud, what makes me all this sing ?

And yet I won't tell you the secret for there is none at all

Make what you will of this story, still, it never does stall

Meanings many it seems to have, but a reason only one

A reason none knows about, however done or undone

Think what you will of this, none of which mind I'll a lot,

For knots there be and still many more, but they matter not

Nor of friends nor foes is this, nor of anything soft

Yet this narrative is held high aloft

By truth, faith and fervor oft sought

Hereby I end this lay, this sorry tale of no man that lived

Lived he did but not the way you think he did

But further I shan't say anymore

As listeners and readers alike find the meaning evermore....