Lazarus Poem by Michael Anthony

I feel the weavers watchful gaze pierce fiercely through my heart.
I feel his eyes of hardened ruby
usher ancient texts of acrimony.

I feel his storm of woe cast beams of scorn on me,
and yet,
I feel the need to stay,
and watch,
and learn.

I'm dancing with the shadows now, alone as one can be.
The apparitions try and laugh their tempest gleam
to make me feel alive and spry and yet I stay,
to dance back,
and forget.

And so I walk a Sisyphean journey
with muted trees that climb around me
gripping every stony breath I take
still,
my eyes rust, and close.

A haven of incandescence burns from the lantern clutched to my hand,
but even that is fading.