the engines of night labor in the distance
flush with the sound of enduring all that might come
flush with sounds of all those  who thrive in its endless warrens

the creeping shadow
waitings baited breath just at lights edge
for a quick peek at another way of life
but must retreat along its own mindless dream ways
a victim of its fantasy of ever better tomorrow's

the engines of night labor on
producing a fine silt that stains the river of time
with its dark mutterings
and cast off malformed beasts
they writhe in pain at the touch of light
that speak in dead languages of mystery's
that souls never harbored

bring out the small boat
we venture out onto the still waters
mindful of the noise we incur
that threatens to expose us
to all prying eyes
we put out our line
and fish for the treasure
but never having been here before
we failed to think that nothing will be gained
we failed to believe we could ever succeed

i must soon leave this room
this place of years
and venture onto the sandy soil
onto the thick air that strangles
and hope there is something to be gained
from such utter folly