Pillows of Rock

Contemplating the trade between what is known and what is not, and the fear of falling through the darkness in between.

 

A dark and restless soul had I,

Seeking in vain, no peace to be found.

Toiling at the work of life,

Its labors ever growing, weary.

 

When lands of shadow beckoned me

I drifted toward their shores.

In their sad, tear-soaked cadences

I took refuge and respite.

 

To remain in the arms of sorrow -

Ah, what a sweet death lies there!

Cradling me, my kindred souls,

Forever gone from life’s real pain.

 

I seek it out in silent moments

When fears malign me, crushing down.

I keep its arrows ever handy,

For a moment from now, I need them.

 

Am I to forsake the comforts

Of this lonely rock of sadness

For the distant hope of pillows,

Soft and warm?