LAST CYCLE © 2008
The words that unravel in this verse,
Sometimes without intent, excesses disperse.
They know that in the infinite, there is no room,
For their embrace to exhaust and loom.
They are cast forth, in faith that disbands,
Transforming into sceptical dust, unable to withstand.
The enigmatic eyes, that see and know all,
Even the death of political colour, that enriches their call.