Blue and empty,
The night devoid of you.
I speak to other worlds
In my walks beside the lake.
The unseeing waxwing which once was slain
By the false azure of the windowpane
Has picked up his shadow and carried on
Past the wilderness of that crystal lawn.
I often wonder what is beyond life.
Is there no hope beyond this deadly strife?
Must our death come bearing its arctic knife?
Does that icy fist make your trembling rife?
I travel ever more into an endless world of abyss,
Seeking to find any color,
Or simply seeking to fathom the darkness,
To cut apart its dark logic
Setting forth on a rugged journey,
Feelings bottled in my chest like
Lost treasures of forgotten cultures,
I look deep within and find no
O, wonderful spirit!
Have you come to inspire me?
Or have you come for my soul?
I bow in thine presence,
All my years I regret
The women I cannot forget,
The words from ones never known,
And those I wounded to the bone.
The faces passing me in the night,
All these streaks of white
Turning pink with the cold,
As I struggle to the bus stop
In the heat of summer,
As the warmth makes me sweat,
I think of our winters
And the clouds greyly set.