True North

These frantic
Carnivals of Time,
These festivals of flesh,
As we them,
So they
Consume us
Until weíve had enough.
Epicure, gourmand, or
Connoisseur
May never get his fill.
He is dead already,
But the timely sated will
Have a remnant
Left the lucky
To search their time to Be
For postprandial evidence
Of immortality.
There be viands of the Spirit
Which starved
May perish too.
Which, if it dies while
You still live,
Is sure the end of you.
Eternity and
Immortality youíve learned
To disbelieve;
Now hereís time to
Look once more
Before you take your leave.
When appetites
Shall fail us,
When fulsome feasts
Grow stale,
Itís not just aging
Unto death,
Itís time left us
To sail
Northward
Unto Thule,
True north,
The one fixed star
Where every Norseman
Took his bearings
When sailing West afar.
Though his voyage was occidental
To find his people Vinland,
His true course
And worth
Lay always North,
His spiritual Finland.