sweet mystery

the cold hunger moves on,

forever in search of sacred omissions,

where scattered ambitions lie waiting,

reaching farther for just one moment,

where refuge may be found;

it is here we make our final stand,

alone and unafraid,

the outcome already decided,

by rhymes and reasons beyond our

ability to control,

standing still, holding our breath for worlds unseen,

giving it up at bargain basement costs,

then wondering why it is,

there never seems to be enough

to go around;

ah yes,

here it comes again,

sweet mystery,

smooth like silk;

how much more can be absorbed,

before slipping into the endless dream?

.

.