Musings of Hœnir

plastic
as
my
placid
smile

I strain
to brush
the midnight
moon
with ivory
fingertips-

a light
too soft

to see

coaxes my
Soul

to wake
to breathe

to feel

to give up
once again

this humanity

a moment

echoes
echoes

echoes

on

and on

and on

this moment
is gone-

gone-

gone.