the last stretch of daylight vanishes succinctly
like a violinist behind a fallen curtain
the dark rises and trickles overhead
‘unknown’ is what we know for certain

he who wields the stars looks down on us
he thinks us feeble, falling prey to emotions
yet when we look back up at his painting
it is glitters of empty on an ebony ocean

voices echo in caves and ripple across seas
a desperate lover calls out to his darling
separated by meadows of weeds and song
‘sides from an ache, she hears nothing

a child frolics in the fields carefree, eased
unfazed by the nightmares that loom near
she tumbles and falls, yet she grows
into her mother’s silhouette, bright and dear

for there’s no hope, no string to cling to—
come midnight, do I stay in this hollow?
and there will be no ambrosia or singing—
come daylight, do I stay in the shadow?

the lung’s last breath appears above water
like a trick of the light at dawn
and it sinks below the surface
just as swiftly as it had been born