How brow-beaten could the day get
the tirelessness that makes one forget
the flesh gives up soon
The restive needs to retire too
Somewhere in the recesses of the day
where every aching part of me, would say
just long enough, the stretch, I will reach the end
but it never ends, my sagging spirits,
work out every turn, twist and bend
till the light fades into the horizon
there is just the night sky, overseeing me
a winged devil of a bat that hovers over, to say
it is time, I know to drift away into the darkening
where, I can hear alone the sound of my breathing
…and to think of the stars winking at me
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