The Purchase

The pale pendulum swings; heavy, tarnished, rope frayed
Opened too early, sly sylph still swings staid,
Yet the well of time dries, the axe soon will fall,
Will the fates pull the strings, or will you shear them all?
A cloven path, abandon past, linger near passion's flame.
It's bubbled up, it's overflowed, the touch tempest tamed.
Fire flows hot from the waterspout, but closed stays the latch,
For distance cannot kindle, mere words will not catch.
He'll risk it, she's desperate, you cannot accept,
Unless you turn the table, weigh the dice for the debt.
It's a far gleam from darkness, a cry from the land.
But without the gamble, it will die in your hand.