Into the Starlight

It's the poet's place to suffer and it is the reader's place to enjoy the work that pours from those wounds.

And so, I came from the woods into the starlight,

serene, the moon,

nowhere to be seen,

and I thought, how,

how very beautiful these specks once appeared,

when your hand was in mine,

when the future was on my mind,

but I have returned,

for the thousandth time,

to the past, the past, the past,

and it's resonating,

in my skull,

rattling all around,

wrapping me up in silence,

for I have spoken everything,

I have made every sound,

and when my eyes,

have blinked,

the instant after --

the world is still the same,

though, on I wander,

hoping to find where you've gone,

trying to find where,

you buried your heart,

and so,

I came from the woods,

into starlight, serene,

but I felt nothing,

save my pulse which speaks,

in riddles,

which confuse every piece,

that you left me with,

I am lost, I am lost,

and maddening.

I am swirling in the silvered halos,

there circling what would be suns,

if they were only closer,

if you were only closer,

I would hold you close,

I would sing low to you,

And help you take the weight of the world,

if only,

you would let me,

if only I could show you,

the love I hold for you,

which would make,

the mountains shy,

which would,

shake the earth at her foundations,

how could we chart the worth,

of such a binding thread?

but I can only speak at a whisper,

in a language that seems,

so foreign to you,

and you either are in,

disbelief or,

refuse to learn that tongue,

And so, I came from your arms,

into the cold,

knowing well the places I could wander,

to find a warming hearth,

instead,

oh, here I'll seek your heart.