At dusk for the first time is broached the prospect of
impending night, shadows lengthening
stretched across withered communities
built from creaking spires of man, swaying and sighing
as raucous winds flay away the bonds of reason
and high up on the pinnacle
a figure sheds crocodile tears with spurious rationales
seeking to alleviate the ponderous burden of
guilt within the soul

Strangers contentiously locking gazes, struggling for
control over their day-to-day vignettes
uneasy in the knowledge that they are fundamentally alone
with no one on high directing how they might
mill about, none to soothe their qualms
or find the place where dark and brightness
meld and rend the grey in chiaroscuro brilliance 

Gouache and watercolors paint broad stokes in eventide,
hyper-realistic points of thought leaping outwards
trying to surpass impressionistic limits of how the self is seen
in the Tierra del Fuego of a world twixt possibilities
when all or naught is equal like and hope turned to despair
when earth and sky like day and night
meet discreetly on a quiet café rendezvous

Drifting, the clouds are aglow with inner fire
Goldenrod and smoky quartz dancing through the pneuma
as travelers linger for a moment, inhale, exhale, breathing
a collective sigh of lost tongues and recollections
of déjà vécu experience in a place and time
impossibly experienced, already seen and known
a synchronicity of déjà visités