Within the dusted corners of my mind Born behind the frosted pane I see, I watch, observe, do I The sun, the snow, the heat, the rain Each fallen droplet kissed by silvered lips, The air but heed to its descent A lifetime journey to apocalypse And yet one in the wave relent Bear not in hand the frosted flakes Nor breathe into the mists Our life their death, vanity's wake, And touch is as unto death's kiss Blood and bread in heat are forged And our lusts we do endulge The mouth of man, the gaping gorge Child it is to yet divulge I see and watch and observe all three And quarry of the twain, That while within, I am far from harm, And why I lurk behind this pain - 'Composition Of A Late Night' (c) Talen, 2001 'It was late.'