The long night, the echoes of the fall. The worrisome giant and perilous thrall. The titan remarking on the lingered threat, the broken monument in delirious sweat. What of the birds that soar in egress of their nest. The day welcomes the fervour of a feverish breast.
I’m lost in the heat, traipsing the colonnade. I’ve long stood over my shadow in awe of a renegade. I’ve been here before and the walls speak to gods but the voice is a relic to my consequent feet. Not long to go as Icarus announces, that he took flight, I sat still in my seat.
My bones vibrate with the hum of discontent, but corresponding despondence is longing recondite. A quill for the evening, the morning tide grieving, washes abject surf from my earnest entreaty. One finger announces, the foreboding disclosure. No end to the madness, reproach in exposure.
Definite aims, chartered demand, the long-standing townhouse expects more of the land. The veranda contains me, my view unencumbered, but the fault is the thrill that punishes and thunders. The forks follow first and they strike in a moment. The cavalry called but no war trickles onward.
A masthead repeats the name of the play, as we all take our seats we share our feet with the stage. I’ve burdened the earth for the riches I earn and she paid in my faith what I ought to have learned. The time muscles past my reserve and my patience, when the bell tolls for thee, we were already ancient.
Not much left in the tank, no station for miles. My charger gives up. Dodged the last of her smiles. The horizon is endless and the vista is arid, but to concede to the sand is the fate of the vapid.
The hours pass by. I stare out to the sun. I reach for the keys, there’s still road to be run.