He packed his things as he go
Towards a decaying silence.
In tune to the cricket's cry
He ascended into acres
Only desolation has seen.
"A glistening of thoughts." He told himself.
Living couldn't pry the wastelands of life.
"To remote lands where I'll be wandering
The dusk and dawns of time."
The voice in his mind is still.
Too bitter - his conscience.
"Receive me in thy death-bed!"
The last words of a heavy heart
Accentuates in darkness.