Twilight

The light retreats and leaves me
the sun weeps in the west.
Eastern eyes are crying
they’re as fallen as my crest.

Despairing tears on tidal plains
are dried and washed ashore.
Their dregs are sunk asunder
and capsize on my sea-floor.

Loneliness that knows my like
mirrors me with pain.
Every thought that treads my boards
reflects a silent stain.

All my worlds await backstage
an audience of players.
Their profile but a faceless mask
expressionless in layer.

We act a thankless role that asks
performance on this farce.
Our curtain call with one encore
the Master and his task.

Applause is short and parting
acclaim may well empower.
The more we face our certain fate
the smaller are the hours.