They aren’t blind yet; the limit still in sight,
Dusk it is, their shadows be taller than us.
Freedom seems orphaning now,
Till their chase catch up with us again.
From the ashes shall rise their comedies,
The ashes be calmed with saline.
A million wet dawns await their ghosts,
I will be defiant, wish you achieve worse.
Some be sensed with all the right queries,
The rests be some answers, all that is prayed.
This ain’t conclusion, no, not yet;
We are abandoning them for now, not for good.