A Chant For Evening

July 3, 2016 - Poetry

Too tired again to write
Too tired again I sit
Too tired again at night
Too tired, my mind in fits

The passion that carried
Me to think subsides.
Intrigue indeed runs harried;
All base thoughts derides.

Eyes asleep against pain
Eyes asleep against dawn
Eyes asleep with the rain
Eyes asleep against wrong

The muse forever departed,
from me a moment eternal.
Somewhere an idea is started
with ugly rhymes supernal.

The answer is not 42.
The answer is not money.
The answer is not inside you.
The answer is not funny.

Out there! Out there lies hope
For children without courage.
They cling to mockery’s rope
To build esteem’s entourage.

Too tired I sit.
Too tired I think.
Too tired the world,
Too tired to sing.

No more for the children,
No more for the masters,
No more for the old ones,
Despair will outlast us.

› tags: Poetry /

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *