Unsung

The deep breaths fill my lungs,

a story silent, a grief unsung.

The chill runs strong,

a river deep with sirens song;

I look above and only shadows stare back,

the darkness is familiar comfort.

I wish upon an unseen star,

but nothing lasts but ink and tar.

A flicker, a flash,

and slow burning flame.

A tune in the air, 

a single sustained note of true shade, 

where is the chord,

my counter,

my trade?

Am I late or last?

My fate or past?

The note fades,

… 

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