Recess

Hanover Thunder

July 21, 2010

Harness, so heavy on my neck;

That glare of light,

Wrongly bestows any sense of freedom.

Bareness, so empty is my cup.

That drop of rain,

Falsely slakes my thirst.

If not for unfinished business here,

Could I turn myself around?

In a world lit only by fire now,

Humanity scarcely makes a sound.

The words are no longer recognizable.

The purpose, no longer plausible.

The faces, cold and all alone;

This new and tranquil situation.

I was never good at interpreting dreams,

But a voice shares a part of another phase.

Between drops of rain weave the soft seams.

The garment makes sense now, the cloak of repose.