Hope that once seduced with lusty songs of paradise, has taken flight on massive wings of treachery, its ugly lie left bare by a hungry, insatiable dark that eats away what isn’t, its ministers swallow what is hollow and feast on all untrue.
The rain seeks to colour the grey and uncolour the red.
These sanguine rivers may drown the tears but mere distraction cannot stop them. The theatre fools no one.
Find me a star that doesn’t twinkle. No. Planets will not do, as they cannot bind me.
Find me a star where the dark has had his fill and light can now be still.
For now I’m trapped and deserted, but hopeful and comforted, by ironical optimism.
That from this ink of sorrow I shall fashion an epic story
Upon this foundation of sadness, I shall build my cities of glory....
But wait.
You, a child of a life that was, a dream from a sleep now broken, you, a fallen leaf in autumn, from tales of love unspoken,
You whose faith may spark for a moment a reverie of escape, have now drowned me in cold waters of distrust without form.....without shape.
You who no longer belong are no longer needed.
What’re you still doing here?
