I am living in a world, where the lights are always off.

I have looked far and wide,

For the source of the divide,

I can only conclude,

It is without.

It is as early as the creation, formed in the deliberation,

Of the boundaries and limits of the structure itself.

*

In the day I am reminded of the life I am to lead,

Weary and life sick,

Day unto dusk.

The turning of the tide,

Only serves to remind,

The lack of luck,

Self imposed unfulfilled blik.

*

By the day, lightning fast, an indescribable pace,

Too fast to note take,

An irascible blur,

Tempted to restrain,

Inner temptation and

Retain:

Sanity and self.

*

By the witching hour I am lulled, discontent into anarchistic, nightmarish nihilo.

I am forced to face the truth,

The unquenchable knowing,

Flowering in the shade,

Sheltered by the sun.

That I know nothing of the now,

And little of the then,

That I must grow and comprehend:

Love, life and the golden mean,

Are as a wind in a storm,

Indistinguishable from their fickle neighbours.