Crude, the way

Since you've asked for the why, when the unturned eyes, meets the mind, longing to see.
A sun dive, down the color, a ring that claps with solitude.
A mark, left unchecked, that claimed the life of those whom denied, the lost have confirmed.
A jobless memento, where the clear clouds, seem to dim away, the settle of vision, has been denied.
A wave, came, washed away what could be, there is not a single trace, left behind, so says the sunset over the hills and the dancing shades that bask the ocean.
I tended to sleep, a sleepless job, a silent whisper that I’d deny, such would be the intention of attention I would seek, fear, avarice and malcontent.
I tend to stargaze, I get lost in it all and as such I walk the sands, these same sands, seem cold by moonlight, as the monolith of time echoes and bellows the changing fate.
I’ve buried the hatchet, seems if it was a war, it turned down into a scuffle, if it was a scuffle, it turned into a buzz and as a buzz, it seems to have faded away.
I seem to loose memory, as much as I loose faith, detachment is now the word, as the things that where left behind, clutter the way and as sand now flows with the ever flowing footsteps, everything falls, turning down to sand, turning down to time, turning and fading, like sliding shadows that chase the light, that close the eon of solitude.
I proclaim, I, the I that is sense, the sense that’s self and not an illusion, that was meet when the time was long, calms the mind and clasps the present, for as unseen and uncertain as the future may be, I consider the solitude, the service and the servants, the obtuse delusion that seems to produce a notion that all is well, when in fact, the motion is crossed and hexed with the disclaimer of perversion.
I crossed that line, time as it should be, has rolled by, I know this, I lost something, along the way, along the motion of sound, vision and color.
I set the compass to follow, the path now points there, where I need to follow, where what I left, now fells as it should fall into memory now lost.
The flow is not as clear, don’t you think?
The pace, indeed the pace, the set coordinates, that would lead to achieve, are now nothing more than that.
The word is, was and will always be one.
I speak, the word as follows, the direction passes the point.
Left for another land, compassion and sense, follow silent.