The Sun does not rise—
rather, it sits upon the evermore,
on the eve of tomorrow,
which is today.
A perilous shadow of yestereve,
though clear as the clearest sea.
Its vision no longer fogs
this debacle of a reality—
that which has forgotten the now,
and the birth of pleasantries:
of passion, and of love.
I peer towards the stars,
into a far-off timeless realm,
where I may never return
to this great old elm
that shelters me so kindly...
As I veer from the ship’s stern,
venturing off into that
which I deeply yearn—
The great, great unknown,
wherever that may be.
Though I am uncertain of thee,
perhaps this is my home,
my everlasting serenity.
This may at last be
my freedom and liberty
from an uncertain future.