Rustic Reflections Poem by Jack Smith

dark shadows cast thier gloom,
morning twilight beginning to fade
he runs to reason, he rhymes through life
fiddler, fiddler play him a tune
cast a spell, bind him with your hymn
keeping to his corner, living in the shadows
they trap him in space, holding his vigil
the mile is there to run; the road invites him
trudge through the chaos; walk on into the sun
empty spaces fill the soul,
voiceless songs ring through the air
he holds onto the words, he sings to the tune
the music is far spent; the crowd is left behind
screams, thoughts, tears he gives
walking the distance, beauty he sees
wander, wander, wander again
fill the skies and color the clouds
who's left to go? who's there to leave?
he questions the question, looking for a answer
the thunder claps in glee, the rains flow in grace
looking beyond the madness, his eyes behold the horizon
why, why, why? the night cries out
the morning dew heals the tear
rising from slumber, only to stumble
flailing arms, wanting heart, breathless noises
they come to call; the call is here
the cure is nigh, the night is done
wake him up when december ends
let it be, let it lie, let him sleep
sweet, the sound of silence is
so peace rule his soul once more