Twice a day he smoked his pipe
In dusky are along with painted shadows of varnished light
Passing over smoldering pages
He hungered for perfection in an imperfect world
Amongst inky echoes
Speaking of gold of Yesterdays
Liquid sky’s
Borrowed thoughts
Melancholy gloom
As well as lost dreams
Passing over the trials of man
With hopes of relinquishing
His heart and head
The anguish that fills his night and day
To dance in the poetic spirit of an immortal euphoria