listen. 

oh, the unfinished withering,
transcendental actualities,
locale,
proclivities,
sustenance for somber symphonies and
victories,
void and unavoidable
only
not in yester designs, nor
vanquished, quite,
rather
combined, or the like
melded with unfolded
lives,
all tragic, joyful, etc. 
a metaphor never met,
yet, so 
desired,
indifference and wit, conspired
to meddle some meaning
from
all that sound, sight,
aspirations and
blights,
sauntering near quietus
still
never crossing, not
yet,
cost extracting 
page
by step, and page, and
step
‘til what’s left,
but the
story,
passed on in quandary and
quarried.