Solitary Dependence

Very little, can hurt me these days,
my grief’s address lives on forever.

My solitary dependence awakens at midnight,
I feel the cold under my feet;
my eyes, wide open, sees the endless expanse
encompassing a courtyard-space of existence,
just your shadow.

Who are you? Who are you?

Sometimes you feel familiar,
at other times, unfamiliar.
Sometimes the play-of-light lives in you,
other times, only pre-dawn’s darkness.
Sometimes you seem so simple,
at other times, full of doubt.
Sometimes you seem to be in this world,
other times, in some other.
Sometimes you are child-like,
at other times, just endlessly silent.

Who are you? Who are you? 

The night trembles, the heart flutters
like leaves whispering to the breeze.

The waves stir on the placid river,
the fish are motionless,
and the stars weave dreams.

Who are you? Who are you?

Engulfed in a soundless world,
I sit alone
as the ruddy-night bleeds away.

Another night arrives,
moves, moves on, turns back to whisper
its suicidal urges.

Who are you? Who are you?

Very little, can hurt me these days,
my grief’s address lives on forever