So now the voice

So now the voice, the voice
from near, from far away, from
far between echoes the wind
deep sonorous across the fields
of the mind, and I look and find
and say, just say, once, just once,
to the sounds that surround me
that if it is time then let it be time, and I look
to the sky to count a name
within the stars that flow
like the sands of generations
across the universe.

And if, what if, the thought asks,
if what if, this time the word comes
that one surrendered to the dark,
that one who saw the rose bloom within
the heart, the one who spoke the scared
words which turned the key that opened
the glimmer of the candle within the dark
of a soul and overwhelmed a heart
for an instant with the possibility,
just the possibility, that hope
could still somehow somewhere exist.

(I am separate now

so separate

and the ache has grown

so deep…

…disconnected…

removed…

that seldom

do I now notice it)

For I am haunted by the blue skies
that lay in slumber, that lay quick
upon the edge of eternity, who breathes in
when I breathe out, whose heart races
beside the touch of mine – the blue skies that lay
within the realm of a golden sun and red
laughter of the rose that melted the frost
from my ever brooding thoughts – the blue skies
that lay now under siege of the cruel fate
that parts us all at the greatest moments
of our lives when the inevitable tick-tock
leaves us at the place where grasping empty air
within the clutch of our fists we bow
to the only conclusion that remains:

we are alone

alone

so alone – in the end

we are always so alone…

Within the dark weeping of your eyes
I have learned of the joy you can place
within my step as within the loss
of the haunted blue skies I know now
that to give is lay oneself vulnerable
but to not is to be dead, within the dark
weeping of your eyes I reach for your touch
which I know is hesitant, doubting, afraid, yet
aching with such desire to soothe, to be
soothed, to forget for an instant the sadness
we must deal with for every day, within
the dark weeping of yours eyes is the only
path to salvation offered to either of us
at this dark and desperate hour.

For to never touch is to never know
and to never know is walk with doubt
for the rest of our lonely days
where we all now must remain

separate

ever

separate

alone

disconnected save

for that instant

when we reach across
the loneliest of bridges

to forget
for that instant

the weeping of your dark eyes

and the haunting blue of the skies…