Hegemony of Morrow

To count what's left of the night to be lived, till the day blinds me again,
Is there more that awaits than already spent, to colour my mortal remains?
What if the windows shattered and the walls gave away all I dared confide?
And I'll be left to stand the glare of the day, stripped of all my pride.

How an eternity of glass eyed vigilance has tarred my paradigm,
For I now question my true intent, as I grow out of time.
Like shadows in gray, the words I gathered shall vanish in the light;
And I'll struggle to bear the act again, resist foreign insight.

Poetry is no act of innocence, nevermind the beautiful lies,
Take heed of the tongue tied truths; the element of honest surprise!
For only when paradoxes are unveiled, is fate best obscured,
Perhaps it is in such revelation, shall I be laid secure.

So they spin stories of sandmen and spirits, to tame the few who dare,
While the children of the sun scrounge the vale in vain, but to return to old nightmares.
Know no red dawn wrested what's promised, the sunset hailed wry closures;
And I was left alone to the forbidden fruits, in search of a fellow stargazer...