Awakened by the sound of retreating sun and advancing moon,
A tired soul lies silent in the throes of time,
Staring blankly with tear-rimmed eyes into a future
Filled with familiar strangers that know him all too well.
A thousand voices fading haunt him from behind,
Yet nonexistant sounds of hope ring clear from tomorrow’s hill.
The same stroke of three hundred and sixty-four midnights
Moves mountains this night;
And a moment sends ripples across a mirror lake,
Smoothed by time and unchanged by human nature-
Tears peircing the reflection of myself.
Hello, I’m Jesse.
