Violet Dusk

It is dusk, and a violet fog covers earth and sky.
The lights—orange and spiraling—are beacons
That call for life      
And more life
Before the waking hour of man dies.
The dark hill in the distance beckons
Like a mad prophet sanctimoniously crying across the sky,
“Be with me, friends, as I search for the light of God!”
I am waiting for the wreckage of night to fall
And leave the map of stars behind.
In those stars I will find some truth to this life.
But now all is hidden behind a veil of tears,
Which only the starlight can make fall.
I am waiting for the steaming sadness to lift
And the night to heed my call.