Pensive Melancholy...

The Sun blazes a red hue,
Dust settles on the morning dew,
Weary eyes awake alone,
And Glimpse a world torn in two..

A lover offers no Solace,
Directions haven't a face,
straightening his legs, facing the cold,
He begins to walk this race..

Faith is not a commodity,
Hope a forlorn charity,
Content in the perverse silence,
Peace defines itself abstrusely..

God hasn't come by here,
There's No Angelic Choir,
The Saints have returned to dust,
And the wine has turned to water..