Who are we?
The somber proud of today?
Can we lift up our heads to recall
We are waiting for a harbinger of tomorrow.
With life so crude, so fast and deep
It's a wonder why we live to sleep.

To fill our heads with so much dread
Will only make strife harder.
When phantoms sleep - so mystique
Why push an inch any further
With my feet so dead.

I know you well so please don't dwell
On foolish thoughts and what why not
For in your sleep a quick shade creeps
To finish dreams and conquer thoughts.
But in the light of day that memory seeps.

For in this world - the many and proud
Full of a stature of empty grace.
So many voices - all so loud
With prominence and empty promulgation -
All so quick to show such waste.