Hour-Glassed

A wish
A whisper
An echo
Of despair.

Through streets
And corners
He lurks,
Every life
He breathes,
No passion
Unheard.

What love
Not beauty
Held,
What zeal
Not courage felt.

Through every
Breath he lives,
Through gloom
Progressing;
In light
Regressed.

Now no dim
Nor pleasure felt,
No sigh,
No sound,
Nor song.

Low murmurs
In the starlight,
Tones of
I
In sight.

In corners
And still
Bare
Streets,
He loves
And loves
But not.