Go at the curse br Of the sun fading light, br O'er the idiosyncratic br Remorse or so or saved… br The indigence of strife. br What we seem to have we br Squander in illusion; br Over-pressed for time; br Pored by frame-by-frame… br We illustrate the shame. br Was it not an imperfection? br Whence it came, this pensive thing: br A way to heal the staying grief br A way to feed the lingered self br This day… br Not to be the searchlight doe br Not that, not the epiphanies br Beyond the open road – br Where the dusk is drawing, br Calling us back home.