Mixed voices probe and penetrate my mind.
As if from far away, on restless tides of air
They gather here from the span of time.
Come join us in our aeon of communion.
Abjure this steadfast solitude that binds
Tendrils of desire to a monolith of care,
And enervates the heart's desire to climb.
Too soon the chorus falls below a whisper,
Oblivion has claimed it's place in line.
Till it's diurnal means whose end I gladly share
Restore me to a finite realm that's mine.