"Twilight" by Malcom Jones January 2009 My eyes are not as good, in this twilight, as they used to be. I no longer see my way clearly in the chaos but now travel alone- vision dimmed by thick lenses of distance and time along the lone static line left in my grasp. At this wayside I drink a cold tea brewed from discontent and loss with a dash of sorrow rummaging through a cuisine of cast offs in search of one crumb of euphoria finding only bitterness for dessert. My eyes are not as good, in this twilight, as they used to be. Yet, I must rise and begin again or lose myself in the darkness.