Mr. Granite explained to Ms. Quartz,

“Surely, surely my sordid indulgences 

See past the husk of my humanity and 

Reap and glean the harvest of solitude”

The chrysanthemum bloom with wither

Till come hither—this sunset overlaid

By only the bright yellows and splendid reds

Paid by moral, beautiful debt to this husk

From dawn to dusk, from dank marshes 

To riverbanks overlaid by this awed sunset

With rise and fall, and rise having just fallen

Before. Ms Quartz quick to reply: “I believe

You do have the wrong impression;

To be so forlorn and lost, Mr Granite, is not sin

As we see past the mountains to see

Mountains once more, overlaid by sunsets

That rose once before” “Your prose is

Quite cyclical, Ms Quartz” retorted 

Mr. Granite. As stars befall the our very skin

Like azure silk, spread long and thin, 

Platitudes, our only guiding light,

As if rhetorics can fuel an engine so much

Greater than what we can power, foregrounded

By chrysanthemum bloom, as seen 

Overlaid by sunsets before. “Ms. Quartz” 

Mr Granite mumbled. “Have you had a dream?”

“What do you exactly mean by that” 

“I do mean it in the literal sense. Have you

Ever wanted anything so much” 

“well, I’m not sure, Mr Granite” Ms Quartz

Deliberated for a minute. “I can’t say

That I have myself had a dream” 

“Right,” continued Mr. Granite “what motivates you?”

“Ah.” Said Ms. Quartz. Responding quickly, 

She chuckled at the sincerely of the inquiry.

“Well, I’m not sure, Mr. Granite” 

“hm”