Gloaming

The gloaming set on and forced night towards dawn,
the last morning rays in my brain were already gone,
leaving shadowed pillars of lost thoughts and found translations,
the Babel created by too many interior nations,
divided against themselves,
no longer one mind and one health,
but one splintered platinum brick showering mental coins of wealth
into the overflowing fountain of my energetic youth.

And the water was the proof,
the truth that the platinum will rust,
and the coins will clog the drains before they add another day
to stave off the dust,
the dust that drifts daily,
Neverending -
no end and a beginning too far back to recall,
stretching deep into the dark of some past sparked December,
every moment of which helps me remember
to rip false promises from my life like pages from a calendar at midnight,
a sight to behold as real people turn to gold,
and the false fall to a discarded heap and fester to mold,
So many lies and forced memories sold,
purchased by the lowest bidder,
an auction for the weak with no one the winner,
and a place where both buyer and seller are sinner.

So the platinum coins stay mine,
a divine bounty saved for the right time and matching mind,
a frame of twilight that will never see dark,
and rays of sunshine that will never allow the gloaming to start.