Listless veil,
dancing in the wind of causality.
Covered, yet you translucere
in the faint light of another day.

What is real, is not.
There's a fire
growing hot,
kept fed and fanned
by a facade's rot.

There's no phoenix here,
just a life left
steeped
in ashes.

Oh whispering, listless veil;
behind you hides the tale
of what the truth entails.

Do not part, it won't be missed.
Bury it, cover it,
obfuscate with bliss.