Melancholy of some outer cry,

A hand’s reach away for the crippled fool,

Flutters out to life in a nights awakening.

I’ll take another blow ,

For tales on sunken ships, insanity walls,

There is no other.

Hand me a paper plane,

A woolen winter coat,

Mist-break on a coffee drink,

Cluttered roads that I loved,

Wound into things that were never…

All the leaves of the season fall,

Ardently, to bequeath a failing imagery,

A timeless spectacle in a nutshell,

A dream,

That far surpasses my hopes to return

From the stillness that lures me in,

Has the world been conspired into

The start of something beautiful.