Obscured by novelty
Waiting for a faith un-trodden.
Rich and dark
like a storm-cast sea at dawn’s light.
Foam and salt upon trembling lips.
Reek of consequence
and wasted opportunity
as I sit upon a withered hope.
Guided by the dawn of a lost generation.
Keep alive soiled turmoil
cast forth by a writhing seed.
Tenebrous coil, a heart’s guidance.
