The hour is late and the blood is racing.
It’s starting to frustrate me, my mind is turning.
The thoughts that I’m not contemplating,
Morning flees, lessons learned from yearning.
The road to Damascus
No earnest man passes
It’s getting later, blanket fall.
Empty space replaces all.
Falling in the final stretch.
Empty stomachs, curl and wretch.
Floods in anger, senseless raging
Pulse denotes nine hearts are caging
The meta fields are spare in voice
A select arrangement.
I want to heal before the curtains must fall.
One last chapter after all.
And what must come is emptier still.
It seems I’ve only time to kill.
What else is there left to discover.
Stumbling through the stories of another.
It’s time to disengage in the dark.
Weight of years for others to embark.
What’s your heading, little sparrow
Coordination is key.
I’ve pretty pictures where I am,
And all for you to see.