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
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