I cannot manipulate the thought
that here seems ever twined
to what within is but the fluttering
Of emotional pegs, slipping, falling.
Its an understatement
of all I've come to comprehend as life
That love, that most sacred of forms
Floods, fills then vanishes
before the eye can share its blink
Heart conceive its beat
The vanquished hope fades
Till nothing, only silence remains
and the emotions that strangles tight
The last gasp of the dream.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph