In sole streaking droplets, of quiet heavy solitude, On vision’s fading, blind lights wandered in lassitude.  Wind’s screaming past, on this path less travelled,  Stinging cold bites, upon frail young flesh it mangled.  Time the lone arbiter, an impassive patient master, Of wandering shadows and drifting desires, mettle lacked lustre. Pearly black beads, traced along…