There is no music for this day.
saddened world, long lost heart,
no beauty for this day, nor art
for who can paint lack of horizons?
fear and doubt and pain arising
weariness and broken thought
never shall this day be caught
should we preserve this saddened eve?
or should we by tomorrow leave
the huddled form of quiet hurt
hours of time on canvas of dirt
can we leave it all behind
and on tomorrow will we find
a brighter sun and darker stars
can we forget our scars?