in an abandoned maple chair

left at the roadside by night

a refusal arises: to count

remaining pages in a blank book

what support lingers at their end?

dilapadated wooden frame

holds aloft, apart from ground

only faint and suffocating trust

suspended over drowning pools of despair

faith may indeed attempt to draw

a desperate breath of night air

but the moon pa s s es without regard

in locations never discovered nor dreamt

in darkness we draw our lines and sides

in silence endless yet immense battles contort

in reckless abandon each earns the spoils