Flagrantly I fall into mists of morning’s madness.
What is it I so crave about this pain?
Droplets of dew vie with damp, glowing forehead
and share a breath of dawning air.
Footfalls fast, no frequent, and plodding,
struggle to overcome this sluggish lump of futile flesh.
Dear God, help me to see the horizon,
because there is my end.