Life

I wait outside her domain
like a dog in heat,
I listen to her voice
pounding within,
like ocean waves
on a dark angry night,
she holds me in arms
of shifting winds;

without shape or form.

In the morning,
before the doubt,
before the poison,
anything is possible,
the world is bright and new,
fresh and alive,
but then like the morning;

it is gone.

Life is full of wasted time,
wide open spaces and moments
in-between the only ones that matter,
long, drawn out hours of insufferable boredom,
highlighted by seconds of indescribable pleasure;

life is a never ending orgasm,
working and struggling,
building and rising,
working for just one short burst,
one quick release,
I want a place to hide,
a shelter from the storm,
safety in the wilderness;

a home within the night;

what words can be said for this?
what salvation, what mercy,
what redemption?

There are places
where hope does not walk,
places where love has no home
and light does not shine,
places where truth does not speak,
down here words fail,
seasons become blurred,
down here;

giving up is not an option.

We come so close,
reaching and touching,
knowing and seeing,
hearing and feeling,
so close yet so impossibly far,
flowing like underground rivers,
hidden,
alone;

silent.

Fires burn bright,
stars blaze through the night,
yet we see only the shadows,
moving through rising tides,
surviving extravagant excess,
hiding among the corners.

Day after day we wait,
as miles become like dead stones
wrapped around the necks
of fools and lovers,
hour by hour we survive,
selling flesh inch by inch,
smiling at reflections in the dust,
crumbling before the edges;

with nothing in return.
.
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