Mr. Granite explained to Ms. Quartz,
“Surely, surely my sordid indulgences
See past the husk of my humanity and
Reap and glean the harvest of solitude”
The chrysanthemum bloom with wither
Till come hither—this sunset overlaid
By only the bright yellows and splendid reds
Paid by moral, beautiful debt to this husk
From dawn to dusk, from dank marshes
To riverbanks overlaid by this awed sunset
With rise and fall, and rise having just fallen
Before. Ms Quartz quick to reply: “I believe
You do have the wrong impression;
To be so forlorn and lost, Mr Granite, is not sin
As we see past the mountains to see
Mountains once more, overlaid by sunsets
That rose once before” “Your prose is
Quite cyclical, Ms Quartz” retorted
Mr. Granite. As stars befall the our very skin
Like azure silk, spread long and thin,
Platitudes, our only guiding light,
As if rhetorics can fuel an engine so much
Greater than what we can power, foregrounded
By chrysanthemum bloom, as seen
Overlaid by sunsets before. “Ms. Quartz”
Mr Granite mumbled. “Have you had a dream?”
“What do you exactly mean by that”
“I do mean it in the literal sense. Have you
Ever wanted anything so much”
“well, I’m not sure, Mr Granite” Ms Quartz
Deliberated for a minute. “I can’t say
That I have myself had a dream”
“Right,” continued Mr. Granite “what motivates you?”
“Ah.” Said Ms. Quartz. Responding quickly,
She chuckled at the sincerely of the inquiry.
“Well, I’m not sure, Mr. Granite”
“hm”