composing the melody of Someday
with vision obscured by irresolution,
fingers bound by cynicism,
and judgement expressing more rapidly
than the listless cadence
of the wounded heart it's directing...
Not comprised of dreams from the night
brought into the light,
Nor as wishes murmured,
to be satisfied in roborant unity,
But as dolorous inevitability,
compiled and set now
by blinded, bound, and wavering action.
And to the rhythm of exhaled breaths
and the melody of Someday,
Blink now the hesitation and
saturated Moonbeams from your eyes
and rise.