Today is swaddled in yesteryear.
Left in the iron cradle alone.
Arise from repose, with stale mind
The morrow tarnished by dreams.
Pouring regret over my cereal
I take a spoonful so I stand in place.
There is no ideation, alas, also no striving.
The world's hue has faded from my eyes.
The blue iris around a sea of dreams,
Now is light ash around charcoal.
A type of purgatory, so I burn in my sins.
I think back to the lighthouse on the shore
Wistfully, wonderfully, beacon bright.
When the mind and heart made harmony
And angels proclaimed majesty on high.
The anchor was heralded by the mind,
Keeping the voyaging vessel docked at bay.
An anchor for my soul, yet naught of the heart.
Heart found not the Dutchman, but Jolly Roger
Slipping and setting sail, the mind melded not.
So now here. Each following breath is waning.
If only...