Requiem for a Tortured Poet

As the evening sprawls over the scarlet sky,

Whispers softly fade, my deferring dreams die -

In eternity doth Time so slowly fly

To ponder the unending question: Why?

In dreams, I grasp at what may not be mine,

Yet fleeting hopes elude my trembling hand.

Uncertainty, a tempest in my mind,

Paves every step upon these uncharted land. 

Like poets of old, penning lines of woe,

I bleed my soul upon this paper white.

Each verse is a plea, each crumbling plateau

Of pain and longing in the darkest night.

O Thou who stir my heart of sacred fire,

Redeem me from this predicament so dire!