There comes a time of day where I must put
my electronic and ink pens away, for another day.
I could write well into the night, in the west it is,
after all only eleven, but I am spent, stars out in the Heavens.
Oh to write so there is no malice and no spite,
to rise with the 'morrows ball of gas and orange fury.

Hope...for a different start.

But I am merely a man,
solo or in soliloquy, I cannot do it or
make it alone, but that is what I try to do.

Hope...does not lie in jest.

Everyday we live to breath is a test?
For the real race which is far away or near
to our heart's place?

Hope... is fleeting take a chance.

I will.
That is where I err.
I f'ward sail while
looking aft, I see not the rocks,
foaming at the bow.

Hope... is less without you.

I am less without you.
Not that I am all that you can
hope for.
Inattentive, I missed your leaving,
you found a lifeboat as I was
only finding rocks and the
press of the unfriendly waves.

Hope... left me grounded.

But the shores sharp spires eroded
my hull, my ship, my soul
so I was left and hope
was no longer on my lips or keeping
me afloat.  

Even the brightest stars faded,
mouth open in a cry,
as I drank deeply and sank into my
selfish depths.

Goodbye hope.
As my darkest thoughts
await me, no
dragged me down.

Waking no more.