a mellow side
inconstituent of any being
an amorphous shroud
permeating those dead souls
as a shadow
on a mountain

It is a growing darkness
which will never release its captives
giving them no time
to run to the sun

there is a warning to be heard
but the words are ignored
just like the spirits
they are lost

*

such pleasure from a spasm
such hope for potency
so many prayers for existence

and who will know tomorrow?
an endlessly revolving wheel
an ass on a treadmill
following the motions
of movement
but never
a destination

*

how does logic
awareness
tie together
in the labyrinth of the mind

essentially
only that
of a child?