wake for the living it's 2 a.m.: do you know where your purpose is? seagulls are sleeping with beaks tucked under wings. but the wind howls, ever restless against the meaningless press of circumstance music foams at your feet, the songs of years, accumulating into one continuous melody. words run from the corners of your mouth. lightning illumines sand-scuttler claws, but old eliot was wrong: the seas are never silent. no god may hear the crying, but dust does. a dog who leans against your leg, protecting/protected, awaiting the bright ambassadors of morning.
word list: wake (n), lightning, circumstance, meaningless, press (v). but yes, I used press as a noun, not a verb.