Nights are forever garnished
With the incessant groan of peril
Spawned by the ghosts of fatherly footsteps

Forebears usher
Their sons into the same
Falling destitute
Estranged from twilit exuberance

Soft spoken dreams
Are dispatched by heavy hands
Crumbled ivory, and fractured silver
Future eyes are robbed of all wonder
Quietly swindled by far gone ages

With childlike intrigue
We journey for the cold and instant
Unknowingly nabbed
By the very hands we once deplored

We foolishly store all worth
In dry and shallow ravines
Where they wither without complaint or thought
Carefully, stagnant and mute