The Hour

By and By the whisper goes on

Illuminating aspect on one’s life

Blazes, Fire and Furnace

Hot and dry, Crisp and painful

Nothing Concrete, Nothing understandable

In vain we wait for the fairy visitor

All but none are available

Should our fingers remain cross

Should our feet twist

Should our mouth yawn

Should our hands stretch

Pains, tears, shame, terror, forgotten hope

Are all around me, yet none could qualify

What else, but to fall asleep and pray

That hour be forgotten.

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