The hollow sound of the song ending,
Lingers just above the horizon,
A translucent fog petting the asphalt,
Lapping the sea-sky,
Aching to break the restraint of silence.
In revolt, the boy shrieks in-surrection with childish fervor,
Towards the moon-that-should-be,
“I have learned to love my fate;
But where have you gone?”
His only companion,
The stunted steps of small feet,
Swallowed by the fog-wall,
Silent to the stars watching,
Witness to the cold breath rising around the man-child;
The road continues on,
With time diffusing into the realist clouds,
Suspended in the mirage of distance,
Oblivious and obstinate to the wanton advances of the Gaze:
A road sign reads “No Outlet”;
The boy had arrived, with a smile.