The Sadness of Light

In the sadness of light
we return to what we lost,
go back to that which deserted us,
hide our eyes from sunsets across
a thousand lands,
only to see doors without keys,
closets without secrets.

We lash out at ephemera,
that phantom at the centre of being,
but our laughter is a dry chuckle in a sterile void
while words hang in the air,
for there is no-one left to impress,
no-one left to sigh,
our dreams fall like dust
and we are gone forever,
only the mist remains.