In absence of composed diction
you still manage to make a potent point.
The sighs you emanate echo then emaciate
throughout those inner
reeds that grow like weeds;
they cloud my comprehension.

You cloud my comprehension.

Clouds are deception incarnate,
did you know?

In truth, I doubt we'll see another sunset,
but like the dried-up well of hope
we'll continue with this venture and arrive at some conjecture,
and at the junction of decision, we'll decide
if life's a magic whirlwind of sweet temperaments and virtue
or a pointless toss of cards and cares and caution to the wind
(it was all her idea).

Facade, facade, facade.
But wait; I feel a spark.
Those leering clouds
are lowering their gaze.

I prefer to think that there is worth
in waking up each morning and
drowning in the brilliant sea of sunlight,
ebbing in the twilight tide.
Somewhere in this strange and foreign life
I hear a word or two I recognize.

Do you hear it?
It's growing stronger.
I know this tongue; I speak with it, but now
I finally understand. What a world!

I profess my creed!
Love is made of strength and pain
and when all else is gone, there is love.

On the shadow of a blackened sun,
I will run until my feet leave the furtive ground;
I will live; I will be free.
No more sorrow,
no more regrets,
no more!
Swell, my light and my love - leave this ugly world behind!

And off you go.
Hopefully it's a kinder world where you are.
Don't you ever regret leaving, but

I'll miss you.