Cold and silent, the skyline is bright
The traveler relives in his mind an old sound
Glowy greens and blues are in sight.
All of his memories, were they always so round?
The uneven path on the cratered pools of dark
Skid his foot on the surface and in grace he leapt
This motion would be the end to life’s arc
He surrendered to the dark thoughts that crept
As soon as he landed, a tune, dormant, ...