by Billy J. Stewart03 Aug 2015
I turn against the night, unthinking, slowly driven mad,
The air is thick with memories, and I in disbelief,
Consider there the conversation we once together had,
And time goes past to rob me like a silent, pocket-thief.
The darkness closes in again and I, in stumbling, reel and choke,
This dryness in my throat like fire burns,
I try to hide my face beneath this ragged, swaddling cloak,
Confined and suffocated by diminishing returns.
Morning never comes and I just while away the hours,
Supposing that from death’s dark dream I might awake,
The window to my world is set with strong and close-knit bars,
I stiffen at the slither of the snake.
Ah just what am I to do to see the sun arise,
And feel the warmth of your sweet gaze upon my face?
This foolish man looks back and finds to his surprise,
A far off figure running, spilling mercy, pouring grace.
…and here within the void I can but only wait,
Sitting, eyes a-glazed and heart of longing ache,
I stare into your soul, and would this unrequited missingness abate,
So wish a thousand times that you were here to take me out again upon the lake…
You know I thought I’d done it all when there I heard you cry,
For I supposed I’d never find that far off place to hide,
But then amidst the sparkling shimmer of the Circle, entered I,
Through opened door, retrieved a place you kept for me, here…at your side…