the fires of yesterday
reach through the gulf of night
with acrid fingers of smoke
and ember-glowing eyes

whispering like a reality that never was
or a game that never ends
played by a life that is never lost

and in the tongue of forgotten souls
they speak in uncertain terms
of charcoal hearts and burned-out love

for they no longer see the living now
or believe in the promise of tomorrow
failing to see the glowing light
that dwells in their own ember eyes