False Dawn

Yesterday, what to say of yesterday to make today seem here? What was that emptiness of nothing hounds' baying unheard and close? Uselessness showing fanged despair at every chosen turn. Music refusing to support even bluest of wailing torment What was that dark grey cloud of beaded cloak wrapped edginess? Whence came that short snarling impatience of exploding fuses Tearing away at binding loving silken care Racing into crashing surf of desperation's waves Knowing instinctively it's all in vain There is no path There is no trail Hope's machete dulled against the constant clinging roots The ever running sands swirl in the moon tide's swell of sorrow And only yesterday was this tomorrow