The world is made of such moments
Where darkness pales to grey
Where silence falls blithe, defying pretence
Leaving heartache's sun-stroked remains
Fending alone through the chatter
Morning coffee and afternoon tea
Still the solstice is enduring, til later
To inflame the nightmare debris
Our worth is made of such laments
Where reverie cradles our dreams
Fears fall foul, despair stagnant
And while seeking we seem not to see
Fun is disowned amid the clutter
Synthetic sin bred of sultry sinew
Darkness dread-drenched, yet unmuttered
We fall into the follies of our muse
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