sad death poem

i expect you
beneath the warrior's helm
friend, whose smile has come to be
daughters of time
to clothe the fiery thought
i sometimes wonder if it's really true
when the wind works against us in the dark
in and of itself
for then without
to be able to see every side of every question
why are the things that have no death
by the shore, by the sea
master of human destinies am i
and breaketh bread no more