‘Tis sacred moment, a candle lit a flame,
A song in haste, in a moment’s wake,
The reflection swayed, a refugee pale,
A prisoner of the breeze, lost in time.
Whilst the man in the mirror froze,
Musings rose, mortal medley waves in race,
The visage wilted, as the deluge rose,
Stillborn in ebb and a race to tide.
The haunted past held its peace, sated,
Yet breathless, chained cold to echoes sold,
The voices spake, shameless, haggard,
Of dreams lost and the longing past,
Of love and lust, on tempest trust,
Of conquests cold and bygone eras old.
The silence caved, the heart stilled in beat,
The soul braved, for symphonies to spate,
The winds woke wanton, the breeze broke space,
The mirror lanced its light, to sight,
Seasons in riot, delirious truth so be told,
The zillion images danced, around a candle bright,
And in the womb of time, the silhouette drew images true,
A faceless fossil, The nameless nomad and the Trespasser on earth.