Opportunity has sung a song into your crystal ear;
Through your quiet madness you have found it hard to hear.
A voice you’ve long awaited you can hardly recognize;
The truth well-known within your heart your reasoning denies.
Your effigy hangs solemnly from indecision’s tree;
Your sleep is undisturbed amidst morality’s debris.
A bird with gilded feathers sings sweet morning songs to you,
The day you wake up to her song is sadly overdue.
A remnant of your heart before its ultimate demise
Can still be seen like ghosts of summer in your winter eyes.
The spirit of the laughter which your face has sorely missed
Is teasing at the corners of your mouth, but you resist.
You walk in sunlit meadows, feeling concrete underfoot;
The tree of hesitation has your name carved at its root.
The circle you’ve been treading a round chasm has become,
And there you vanish, never knowing “where to” from “where from”.