Another one, that I just wrote

"Cold Light"

Under which a spindly weed can't even stand
Falling down among the cracks of granite
Threshold of grey strewn with the unliving
Reminants of what never was and will never flourish
Under a cold black light

In a place where colors don't really, matter, anymore
Thin cloth encloses the wind beside silent flesh and bone
A blind eye, an unwilling ear, stretched out to the sky
Not looming, nor spanning, just settling above the universe
Shone upon by cold lights
Which penetrate from the stars, or from beneath an ocean cloak
Stilled whispers, making up the solitary sound of thunder in the distance.