Who can tell the difference 
between gallantry and deceit; 
that is clear only to 
the querying breeze? 

Who could not smell 
the pungent heavy cloud 
before the pulling of 
the petulant wind? 

Further, afar off, no one inquires 
about foreseen mornings unseen 
dreams once winged zephyrs 
echo in forgotten hallways. 

Perched high on rock faces grim 
beneath the humming of the bird, 
awash on porous promontories - 
failure now permeates the abject soul.