| |
Darkness
I'm flailing
in the darkness
of these days,
this turn
of the planet
that leaves us
like blind moles
foraging in
the underground
of ourselves,
directionless
yet impelled
by instinct
to move
tortured
by memories
of light
and warmth.
Mind knows
this is a season,
a recurring thing,
it is nothing,
but we feel
our lives
not in mind
but in souls
and bodies
immersed
in this time
of loss and
the death
of things.
We are visited
by our own
future ghosts
that beckon
in the day's
early twilight.
|
|