The ancient ice desert of memories only remembers
Hero’s or those who passed younger than wished
The bag is heavy the load is large and as always
The destination is unknown or at best vague, un-hoped for

Muslim prayers annihilate the morning and there’s no need
To describe anything only to forget and keep moving
Constantly forward but oddly usually backwards and into
Something he can’t quite grasp though its meaning is always

There is never enough to feed the goddess’ hunger already
Too much bullshit in mind too many thoughts, need
Begins to overwhelm him but hunger for what? more
Of what ? Need if only for more need and all of the

Tragedy that that will bring never fulfilling its promise
Of false youthful glamour that never appreciated itself until
After the moment had passed .The youth as always looked
Back like Thomas and by the time he looked up it was

Too late.