Abandon

Rounding up rules with a measure of dignified grace 
Is the tracing of targets with carelessly guarded untruth.
He gathers the glass beads of 
Days gone by slowly,
A sloth serving time 
As he waits for th'arrival of promise in days.

This reckoning, calculus, 
Counting is groundless,
As it crumbles confetti of moments gone slyly
Disappeared days in the twinkle of dusk,
He drums up momentum, 
A stray track of lightning in still.

Embedded with numbering, abacus wandering
Close to his heart is the drip-drip-drip chorus
Of counting, of waiting of meting out
Integral parts, fractious years of abandon 
With ever clearing increases of steps toward the whole.