while waiting for the sun after a midnight rain
my dampened dream conspired to put forward
a stream of colorless schemes immersed
in the running time of lost persuasions.

so possessed by the folly of wine and lofty spirit
I confessed to suspicions, of not reviving anymore,
a pity there was no soul eager to act as counsel
and rally against the dim justice of my logic;

having lost its tender plume to the ghostly wind,
time preferred solace only from within, repeating,
the sad refrains of willowy voices, flowing,
through the windy planes of lost dimensions.

in flight, not one offer of humanity was tendered,
nor concern, nameless shadows moving everywhere,
so uneager to realize the missteps of yesteryear,
as prelude and epilogue, apathy will always survive.