There are days

when tears do rain

upon a quiet morning.

The twilight

all thoughts are

drawn into one

memory alone.

It is hard to explain,

the feeling is

so embracing

and yet far away

unable to reach

that spiritual moment

when life becomes

something else,

something that was

this thing that cannot be held

in the hand of each wonder,

the lover,

the saint,

the ill repute,

they all seem caught up

in the same cycle

of wondering why,

who knows how,

what difference can be found

to distinguish

just that which all of us

seem to want to know.