Cutting Through the Fog
The strangeness of the wind,
no friend to my face, as a flat
gray day trails its veil across
the sky. Past life memories, a
harsh reality, staring me down.
Bleary eyes filled with sorrow
saying their last good-byes.
Somewhere off in the distance
a train whistle pierces the night,
then fades like forgotten dreams.
Conclusions waiting as years
are plucked clean, like daisy
petals floating to the ground.
Lost, standing on the corners of
Nowhere and Regret. Forsaken
once again. Conflagrant passions
fading with each failed attempt.
Wandering caliginous streets.
Desperate and impuissant I make
my way through the brume, as
it swallows me whole.
Eternal Game
Night sounds amble away with starlight
at their heels. Seeking out the yawn of
morning’s sleepy outstretched arms.
Hours, four and twenty, play tag
amongst themselves. A game
the moon knows all too well.
Dreams come to rest on shoulders
white as milk, until the sunlight beckons,
with eyes the color of sapphires.
The story is perpetual beyond the span
of time. Eternally chasing its own tail
through the universe in pursuit
of a brilliant golden sun.
Brokenness
There is no black and white
anymore. Everything is gray
as I wade through Indecision.
I do not remember how to pray.
My knees now fail to bend.
Desperate hands forget how to fold.
The words no longer form in
my effete heart, nor do they
pour forth from my mute mouth.
Emptiness reaching out, searching
beyond a sacred scripture, for a
faith larger than taught words.
Malignant desires, like invasive
vines, overtopping the forest.
Choking out all natural beauty.
Frenetic lives cluttered with
belongings, void of any true value.
Broken beings in need of healing.
An urge to be filled. A question
to be answered. A new spiritual
awakening rising from within.
Broken no more.