I sat at the edge of the old bridge, awaiting the unobtainable.

I looked past the layer of smoke that escaped my breath and stared at the Moon in its fullness - and its greatest light instilled in me a recollection of fond memories and the sudden realization that fantasy could not cope with the most ideal of my realities.  Never again would the Sun rise from its chilly horizon.

Perhaps in another lifetime, I thought.

The sudden desire to scream the magic of the unimaginative blurred my instinct and the vision of the unamused.  Sitting alone, I heard the prayers of an old religion - it revealed my daily sins to the hearts of the unattainable, ( and soon after they became 'the unworthy').  Only the Moon hid my pain with great illusion and kept the fidelity of my imbalanced sensibility, while the common rhythms of my fragile nature skipped the sense to maintain the white noises of my darkness in the night.

Yes, I thought to myself once more, perhaps in another lifetime.