The drudgery of the day runs me wild
To scenes filled in with knives and roses
And what does the gleaming trudging sun seek of me?
The hour grows darker

It is only this drudgery that runs me wild
And if not only then perhaps a wanting
Of such divinity is an extra body
But this empty space beseeches me

What drudgery does to the mind of a walnut
To the the minds of those upon a higher ground
Depending on sustenance of those arid skies it brings

I fear some days and smile on others
A grin upon my face these times is temperamental
But the roses may blossom as knives drop the next day to come