A Moment in the Life

[Bardeaux]

As the hand reaches four, my eyes take their first rest
Momentary relief from the burden of my conscience
Every tick of the clock is an itch to the psyche,
Another jab of the shovel into the Earth
Wonder and desire are no longer beautiful virtues of life,
But the methods of inescapable torture divulged only in the most anachronistic of times
Summer smells of rain and sunshine have made themselves a nuisance of nostalgia,
Invasive sensory fingers pointed in judgement
Subtle sounds of the ambient nightscape bring no more solace,
But a reminder of the radiant light shining elsewhere

Dismissive thoughts as my tongue grows dry,
No water will ever be cold enough, no juices ever so sweet
I imagine where I would belong with stronger merit,
Warm and content and satisfied with every blessing
What an obscene phantasm,
While lying icy and disconnected with nothing but contempt for comfort
Memories of a previous life serve as a vehicle for further angst,
Driving the night deeper into the dark, inexplicable unknown
My eyes open with a shallow sigh as I re-position once more
The hand finally reaches a moment after four