Mends to Broken Ends

You are all the wrong things going right,

You are all the nights giving way to light,

You are all the lies drawing a million miles,

You are all the dry orchards home to a million fireflies.

You are all the escaped rays kept carefully to the horizon 

You are not a summary of your past but strength of all the pouring Poseidon

You are all the inks that poetry bleeds and all the mends to broken ends

And I can't help but sway away.

Into the darkness you feign,

With every wick of might,

If not for a little less than a speed of time.

And I know I can't let you go but I know I am not there yet to rightfully stop you!