‘twas the Hour of The Raven,
Scolding at the Seven Seas,
Humidity can’t be seen
As the sun whirled
Its final twirl.

A flock of pigeons stand by Midnight’s Trolley Trail.

I am my own eye,
Staring at taught veils
'tween cotton gaits.

The clouds are no more,
Spirits remained encaged in rose sepultures,

A transformation so chaotic, they cackle at their false fear.

MY BLURRINESS SEEMS TO BURN
STEADY. ready,
For what to behold.

I have left Universe to relay ,
As the subtle sun one did in its day.

I am left
To react.

React to what?
React to wee?            React,
to relationships,        React,
to their degree of nobility,
So fruitful, so radical in concept indeed.


Of all these perspectives
I am one.
One paper, one tree cut for endless possibilities.

The treasure remains underneath,
Where I weep
In the deep,
In the deep.

There is nothing to find,
And that made all the difference.

'twas the Hour of The Raven,
Scolding at the Seven Seas.

The boundaries were broken,
The lines that were crossed now left behind only lies.
This city had now shown its true color.
It’s a reminder to the depths of human misery.
I remember a scene where the smiles were sincere.
The silence that would come so surly through the safety of sleep,
Was replaced by the screams of a stranger.
A stranger who would find no solace from the icy shores.
In a world which wishes to wash away all malicious intent,
The stranger only wanted to find his own way.

Through a wilderness of wasted opportunities.
He sees beyond the surrounding walls,
Straight into the invisible summits of imagination.
Where no power can control or corrupt.
Even in a time before memory,
There was only misery.
The sun now seeps through the silver evening skies;
The foolishness of all stranded lovers
Betrayed again by meaningless ties
Stormed forth with the palpitation of the relentless sea.
Alone in his abandonment.
But Blind enough to see.
Forgotten by all hearts.
Swallowed by a pointless eternity.
Branded with the fiery red passion of a thousand burning suns.

The stranger stretched his hands towards the moon’s reflection.
Lashing out in despair
Another charade, and another man at a loss for words
He clung to his hopes, to his sanity.
It was a necessary evil
His sightless faucets of sorrow were constant proof
To his humanity
To his sincerity
The epitome of pure empathy
Every action, every circumstance,
Forged by bad intentions
Let every star still tell the tale
The distant hearts will forever burn his name
Even as the sky-tears burst upon the breathless world
Cleansing the sepultures of every broken promise
All sense of permanence will be plunged into absence
Under the scrutiny of such a sun, there is no shelter
There can only be enough hope to escape a black tomorrow.