The sun is a bacchanal orb
in the evening nimbus clouds
The shreds of light absorb
Vestiges of the evening's shroud.
The trees and ferns and blades of grass
stand aloof in lethargy,
While darkness descends like a shard
without remorse or clemency.
The despairing lives will soon be
silhouettes of a past quite bright,
and hopes and fears will both flee
to come back with the morning light.
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