The infinite causeway allured me
Aided by her dissolving sun’s lisp;
On wings of forlorn words, we rode
Into the ambivalence of the night
Haunting us were bruised echoes
Of relics that endured time’s betrayal
And of youth that was sucked out
To accommodate the daunting wisdom
Embers of her seasonal vagaries
Are well guarded in the archaic urn
Crescendos of her country songs
Are well guarded in her unkempt glares
Lurching alongside, I awaited
The indolent intermittent glance
As the half-dried brook struggled
To meet the weary sea
We stumbled upon the night’s womb
With the burdening moonless-sky
Pressing the weight of vacant innuendos
On our exhausted shoulders
And she glanced with the Gladiola’s bloom
To answer famished eyes and husked sighs
The faraway brook squealed past
To proclaim the end
“The clouds showed me the way”
“I followed the vagabond’s gut”
“Now that we are here”
“The canvas seems vain”
“It was never the causeway”
“It was the quench”
“For epochs have I wailed"
“Should we depart?”
“Let’s wait for the arrogant dawn”
“Rekindling regrets?”
“No.”
“Then?”
“I want to see the enslaved animal”
As the nakedness of the brook
Crept slowly in the line of our vision
And the flushed sky bellowed
I stood there ablaze in her stare
As she slowly withdrew
In that ludicrous causeway
Some spirit still enamors
The embers of that brook
