I Wonder If You Always Tell The Truth

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Genuflection

Daubed beyond distinction in dim twilight.
With calm content have I frayed the tethers;
To paradox condemned, I find myself
Lying restless in a bed of feathers.
 
Faceless Time blindly swings his scythe through
Our limitless years, halting their emergence.
Poised, on the point of this execution;
Solitude, but the sum of my fervence.
 
Scattered remains from the day diffuse to
These spiralling currents, oft to remind -
Numerous tears in the fabric of life,
Cause nought but complaint for its ill-design.
 
Pursuant to a past, unrelenting,
Fragments of self, bow beyond detection.
Aft this engagement, Dawn rises to meet
Night's solemn, begrudging genuflection.