Hopeless hope, creation with scope
Creating worlds upon the morrow
Today, yesterday's rope, still
The swing of the emptying thing
Bittersweet, like clutching inevitable
Whims, whispered, tears dispersed
Coughs held the pillagers of beds
What's in this spell, one last I'll see
You there again, moment by moment
Dreams are dispelled, together we smile
There will be a second in life, to remember
Before dead, in the whiteness of creation
A spark shocks the heart to remain
One cannot fathom the phantoms
Which roam, undispelled, quenching
The hunger, disarray, numerous, fell, the pain.
Christopher Baird 2011 ©
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