This sheer absence
of reason for invariably being 
present in my unease
which ebbs and flows 
like a wave in a restless ocean.

A lack of definition 
for those chiselled dreams 
that drift in the eyes every night
but go unremembered in the day
like invisible morning stars.

An abysmal poverty of thought
to look into the transience of moods
and make peace with 
that feeling waning in its intensity 
like a moon's phase over days.

A nonchalance of the heart
to forget a past, vaguely sad,
and try to make sense of it
in a future unseen...
like a blur embraces a shadow