I’ve set sunrises to sleep for so long now. Routine and ritual. Watching the lights reach crest as I withdraw to the nocturnal cycle. Barely recouping my vainly spent labored which yields little more then seasonal whisks. A undulating sea of wake, crass, and solitude under thread. So this it seems to be time ending. That memory. The place of myself. It will be placed in another horizon.
-M