Immaculate Remedies. Poem by Stuart Logan

The white light floats,
Above my head.
Sitting like,
A spool of thread.

Bloody tears,
And darkened lies.
I sit and watch,
The werelight skies.

I hear the call,
Of the forlorn lost.
The lover weeps,
At the forgotten cost.

My tears do not fall,
And yet the porch still splatters dark.
And the heart inside,
Has left her mark.

But a thousand miles,
We are apart.
No save, no load,
And no restart.

So I fall on grass,
Like an autumn leaf.
My heart now sits,
In a blackened sheath.

So my lost lover,
Please hear my cry.
That I cast towards,
The twilight sky.

We are apart,
But not by soul.
We'll meet again,
When we live once more.