I’ll do it tomorrow.
For now - i’m drained, down to my marrow.
That strength will surely come, i’m certain!
Shan't wander astray if behind the curtain.

It waits lined up with concepts i’ve been dying to unravel,
Between, archaisms wobble with their eye sockets filled with gravel;
I ought to dust them out, they just wait there for their turn,
If the rust will gnaw me promptly, no one’s left for them to mourn.

"'Tis a pity!" - you would say, 'bout ideas that turn stray,
But can a being freely roam without truly nibbling drome?

The curtain soaks in anticipation.
The strength’s yet to come i need for action.
For now - i’m drained, down to my marrow
And for all there is... i’ll do it
tomorrow.

mb