A dalliance in faith.
A call to cause to reap the havevest
that lies rotting in the fields.
An inkling perhaps of intelligence?
A glimmer maybe of hope?
Long days and blacker nights
hold no promise for tomorrow,
And the reasons found for levity are seldom
and sad all the same.
The joyful noise has found
no voice to echo its emptiness,
And the once gentle gestures are forgotten.
Hushed in the whispers left lingering in the mind,
like secrets held against ignorance.
Borrow thoughts that embrace the idleness
of ludicris libations of both heart and hand.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.