brightly alive, yet
desperately exhausted this
stranger in a bleak dawn
still pulling up the world's grey meshes
which capture o so little

humanity

a golden coin in an empty bucket
against a world flood of unchained darkness
steerlessly bobbing on the
dim pulse of a promised dream
music which is audible only when
all are silent

wrapped in garments of verdant red
the stranger laughs
the mist follows