Inside the silent retrospection lay contemplation,
will each opportunity occur because they should
or has that message run its course, are we evolved
are the tasks we face the same as they ever were.
These notions in twilight’s reckoning speak devotion
while trying to sort through an insomniac’s world
be desire to understand just what mystique involved
calls out to the unsettled mine, We note another
individual whose pallor has brought their fruition
much lauding, a constant drivel of because we could.
Yet, what if all of our silent midnight misgiving revolved
around simple logic lost within materialism’s fodder.
Then might the man who wakes to check the time
know love is in twilight’s passion, a garden sublime.