We stare down longest perspectives of dusk.
Beneath the wings of lilac dim,
In robes of  evening heavens ablaze,
A breath of winter tides.
With all the memories that could not fade,
Gone like a dream in the wakening eye of day,
A sigh of immortal past echoes to my ink kingdom.
Connected by the voices of passing vagabonds
And calls of lazy seas.
The midnight shivers as I drift from the shores
Of Dreamscapes to the stars of desolation,
Trembling in the West.
The stars not fond of borrowed thoughts