We’ve covered a lot of ground;
Been so in here,
A play free of dry rot and
Diffuse saw dust.

It had been a time to relinquish
Your dwindling faith
In me, in everything,
In us.

Summer-heaves disperse.
Rapacious domineering plight
Of the shrouds of clouds,
Looming just above,
With foreboding wide;

Cleaving the night into its
Respective fashion;

And trouncing one last thing
What was left of us;
Crepitating fire –
Fan the rage.

Bring me nuts and berries,
To salvage a vine
Or a bush
Is to enliven dominion
In the noble tides
Of your passing fancy;

Truly this was me
Writhing in the distant stars
As they speak the language
Of forgotten moonbeams.