Emptiness

The shadow train released its
Followers onto the dry and barren ground,
And returned to it's labyrinthine pattern.

All the broken widows made their way
To the cardboard confines
Like moths drawn to a mystic light,
But no glowing wonders lie within,
Only illusionary spectacles.

Within the silent structures
The ghosts inhabit their tombs,
In bodies lifeless and unmoving
Like water without wind and current,
And no tide, no moon to draw it.

Tired eyes stare unblinking
Upon the lids, and they look upon themselves,
For their box is made of mirror,
And they peer deep inside,

Only to see a cave.

Their ears pick up a sweet and distant music.
It flows about in near certainty
And is yet unreachable,
But still, they hear
And dream.

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