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,
there is no-one left to impress
no-one left to sigh,
dreams fall like dust and we are gone forever,
only the mist remains. (c) 2007 Tony Foley
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1 comment:
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