It is what we have insisted upon

the one more, the one last

and our ambition betrays us

the flash of lightning that brings no

thunder.

South of soul, south of purpose

the air, sparked by bitterness

outstanding debts of amelioration

unpaid by troubled minds

laughter, now deafened by insincerity

while grief nips at its heels.

There is no absolution to be found,

we have signed our own warrants

giving chase to ourselves

Now the dread-cat of

suicide

stalks it's indifferent prey

and that's us

for in the trial by morning fire,

we are at last

succumbed.

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