Spoken thoughts of sullen silt
Ramble down the wayward trail
Guided by an unseen force
To an ending time prevails
Every tale of glistened hinting
Leaping forth our truth afire
Wasted flesh as wilted flowers
Dangle from our stemmed repute
Parting ways as days conclude
In brooding now bereft of boon
Gone are all the songs of now
Lost amid the toilsome tune
Beauteous as once I knew
Blanketed in blissful skies
Bride of comfort draped in clouds
Wielding words that whispered wise
The hour has since come and gone
Left behind, these hearts now truant
Rumination, restlessness
And rhyme remain amid the ruin
Max, or Not 