Abandoned Intentions

How can one calibrate
conception that evaporates,
thrust into the void,
like a fish in the ocean
to small to be eaten.

Movement in minds
could not be fathomed 
by notable finds;
nor burrows which
darkness shines
in the hearts of the weary.

Nothing is questioned
without hope of an answer
or silent response.

I caressed the one thought
in bits of hope for an answer
or at least a listener,
but rarity's know where to hide
and 
and sunsets abide
next to mountain peaks.

So at the following moon,
don't watch me again.