With a westward wind dying down,
and the sun creeping beyond the horizon
into sullen shadows and dark nothing,
I sit on a pier watching the ebb and flow of life and death.

As my mind crawls along traces of thought,
of fear and things of loathing
yet of happy times embroidered with laughter,
I sit on the edge of the world clouded by life and death.

Watching the last of the light fade away,
the wind dies and the black engulfs me
as I ask what is to become of the sun,
I hear her call and remember that it will come tomorrow.
 
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