The living of it

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A fitful night
A restless sun
A waking of an uncertain land;
I clawed to scrape the morning light
Yet curled up when the light scraped too bright.
A listless day
A hopeless way
A today boiled hard and jaded
I wiped the ache 
And sweated out blue
And clipped the nails from where the light had faded.
The night came as it always does
Certain and silent and strong
And despite the perpetuity it promises
It still wouldn't last too long.
When the moon is glum
And the stars keep mum
And I trace the destiny fissures on my hand
I wonder if my promised paradise
Is a simple rented home
In a lost and uncertain land.

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