Each dusk from hope outworn by day
a dawn is dreamt of as I lay,
yet bares it through not hourly veils
its visage for it night conceals,
instead what rushes through the dark
and sings out ceaseless as a lark
tis the midnight express steaming
keeping me from thusly dreaming;
Nowhere from and nowehere to
burdened by a soul nor reason,
it travels endless deserts through,
restless hermit fears no season.
In moments black and hours unholy
it awakens me and reminds me solely;
“rest can never come from resting
dawns are dreamt to not dreamt of,
life is from one breath nor many,
hope is worn by age and wisdom,
fear is for fools, sages and men
as freedom lies in the dark unknown.”