Unkempt Promises

Promise made yesterday, unkempt this day

haunts me now as i write, as i sit, do

what so helplessly must be done today,

i wonder at powers of each excuse

which can desecrate a sacred oath.

What does intent have to do with that vow

before fate wields desultory hand and

vaguely forbids the keeping of this bond?

So well meaning, honest and wise-seeming

now a gritty guilt, for failure and fate

often create impassable moments,

such as these small miseries; dishonoured,

Honour does all but die, ineptitude,

ignoble death: desecrated word!

Were all the promises ever made found -

those that had fallen to unheeded grounds,

placed and ever shored, in some great way swept

together, gathered in a wondrous mound

i would in some future omnipotence,

restore their life, resolved, resilient

to give them Time so that they could be kept

So that forevers are reserved for such:

the making, the keeping of oath and vow.