Heavy is the burden / That brings you to your knees / Lost in the confusion / Of life's uncertainties / Feel you're suffocating / With every breath you take / Moment left remaining / Time for you to pray
"Solitude stands in the doorway. I'm struck once again by her black silhouette, by her long cool stare and her silence. I suddenly remember each time we've met. And she turns to me with her hand extended. Her palm is split with a flower, with a flame."
The writer stares with glassy eyes, defies the empty page / His beard is white, face is lined and streaked with tears of rage / Thirty years ago, how the words would flow with passion and precision / But now his mind is dark and dulled by sickness and indecision / And he stares out the kitchen door where the sun will rise no more