Rippling through my conscious half,
I find a shivering realization exists -
Where I left a timid empty hope.
Desires sprout from a weary heart
When the sun dances with hurried steps
Playing games with the cuckoo's nest.
For it only has as many moments,
As would be spared for happy games.
A brief respite; A pretence; Solace!
Smiles fighting at the last frontier,
We - moving at a tepid fading pace...
Not dead yet; Not so lost as we were!
Steps though not in line, fall firm,
A certain grit outlining my form,
Subtle but certain changes surround -
Reality as it is reborn in my eyes.
I - flukan to be shaped; I - reformed,
Arcane; Adept; Insipid; Resurrected!
Fleeting, blithe, inebriated joy...
I still question hope's fidelity -
Though I do so now in hushed tones,
For it does deserve a second chance,
Perhaps I can now confide in hope.