listen to me! we heard him cry,
a blur against the steel-blue Dusk.
but no one would take any warnings
against what we had learned to trust.

the gentle lies we tell ourselves!
lest we endure the stab of truth.
now they were naught but strangled ashes
which had once worn the mask of hope.

from the warm fire of our people
drops of wax flowed down, like tears
and they asked me: "why do you cry?"
"well", i answered,
with my hands blue, and my eyes wide,
"i've held on to the truth for too long now."
and there was no escaping Time.