Gray dusk of eventide; shadows
blur my vision merging black
and white. Formless fog settles in,
shrouding thought once clear,
blending day with night.
What matter? What portent?
Where goading, driving need?
Love pain hate excitement disdain
brushed in a single hue.
Familiar pastimes refuse to lend
delight. Passions’ fires, not dead,
will not burn as bright.
Anger empathy tears ecstasy …
Ghosts.
Never to return
www.michaelraymond.name
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