As the evening grows dark I come to rest at a small pool of water... its character muddied by circumstances. I hold it in my hands, the shifting surface refusing to reflect a pale moon ... and so I seek in the darker depths ........ a glimpse ......... a hint of the moon that once shined so clear ........ a light now missing. I sit down and try to wash the stains of tire the day has brought.... the stains refuse to fade away ..... and I smile at the fact that it wouldn't matter even if they did. To the water I say ... here is laughter - here is love - the flowers once so beautiful - I now offer you withered.
On and on I walk through the night and I reach an old abandoned fort .... I roam its insides ... now dreary quiet ... I chase those empty shadows of silence for the hint of laughter that once echoed and I ask - where did he go? the boy that once capered and galloped, and ran merry in halls of gold.
I walk and stumble till noon past morn .... now seeking again - a drink of water ... a humble drop. I reach an endless barren ... surrounded by a scalded land ... I fall on my knees and dig with bare hands .... in that dry parched earth - I forsake my soul - I bury its grey fabric - a satin once white as snow.
Ashes to ashes - Dust to dust. Behold in its quite sombre - the death of Hope.