Nights in Rado​

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Nights in ‘Rado, my soul requires

To siphon essence, import, and aim

From these stubborn feels that refrain.

 

It is at first the kiss of cold,

The cordillera-like chill,

That welcomes me to the still.

 

These stars, they shimmer and sigh,

Susurrus from a timeless plane—

Concealing truth; clarity inane.

 

This lunar attraction, it roughly dispatches

My brain, the questions that fill,

Answers barren like land, for me to till

 

So on I dig, out, over, and round,

Alas but ogling this opaque ‘verse…

Wink from the moon! How curt a curse.

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