Beckoning hope for some, and despair for the rest.
Cars motor past with their bleary-eyed drivers
Dispersing the calm and quiet of morn
Energy rises with each sip of coffee, while
Feline ghosts sit supremely, and stare
Gentle caresses can't calm the forgotten, since
Hindsight teaches but can't satisfy
Innocent hearts that are battered and bruised by
Jarring realities encountered too soon, which were
Kept cunningly veiled till the compulsory gloom
Language evolves from worldly wisdom
Maturity trounces a childish tongue
Never to utter what's harbored beneath, the
Opalescent shadow that glimmers, then fades, with the
Passing of seasons; great circles of time, which
Quietly peal this inevitable end.
Revelations come, surpassing the hours
Spent dreaming of what is forgotten and foul.
Tomorrow we'll plan to have something accomplished,
Until then, just sit and drink in the doom
Vanquishing substance with each soundless swallow
While realizing that Waterloo isn't only in books
Xysters do more than scrape away bone; confessing the truth
Yesterday denies. It's there they say, if you want it
Zealously lurking; beckoning from another blistering sky.
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