sunset blood drains
from transient clouds
as the bone-white moon
hangs in haughty defiance
over a jaundiced prairie

and as the life-giving sun
descends into its earthly grave
centuries of ghosts
whisper their hollow secrets
on the northern wind

they speak only of yesterday
amid the coagulating darkness
having long forgotten
the radiant life of today
and the promise of tomorrow

the sun-fired clouds
cannot consume
the cool-blue slivers
of tonight’s sky

as nameless colors
dance to the rhythm
of fire and ice
in twilight’s silent waltz

just as many truths
are left unuttered
their presence being felt
but obscured by words

Withered and within
a dying breath
and yarns of endless ephemerae,
like thunder, like lightning,
igniting ages of delusion;
A fear.

Astral and adrift,
I  bloom in adventures,
yet amble in ink of hundred hues,
like a bubble, like a feather,
lazing in prismatic pastels;
A vagabond.

Etched and enshrouded  ,
a fiery trail of my footprints
I have yet to reach,
like a fantasy, like a nightmare,
calling, in dusk-soaked whispers;
A journey.

A life ahead.