The rain was cold and dead
while time fell in every word said
nothing left to be or become
black and white asphalt glare without sun
December set death though mist
wrapping itself like glass around branches
cloud’s anomie left to itself
passes through nowhere closed even to wealth
If the dead were lost on ice
where darkness isn’t an afterthought
time would be equally stranded
in shadows that wouldn’t feel
A solitary spark
a feeling of animation in the distance
farther and colder, more wet and forgotten
less than forgetfulness, as if it never was
Human wickedness the challenge
can’t blame God for that
through open doors to wars for more
given free will he finds time to kill.
https://suno.com/s/qM86xj0nhKMK1QfQ
