The Dark Room Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

A dark room lies waiting - it's emptiness is just like me inside.
Foregoing pleasure for this roller coaster ride - waiting to see where the end will be.
Sifting through activities of the day, finding nothing of value - setting fire to memories of yesterday.
Smoke rises - filling the air - scorching windows of the future - blind with it's tears.
Standing - waiting in a dark little room - it's emptiness is just like me inside.
Blinded by tears of ages, parading past, leaving no traces of history to be dealt with in later years of rest.
Tears of remorse fall and young lips - praying - find no meaning in faith or God.
Taking lightly, all statements made in haste - refusing to make any sudden moves.
Deftly falling into deepest spaces of inconsistent beings - consuming each other's knowledge and spewing it at each other's faces.
Pretending never to have set eyes on distant musing - unfaithfully begetting reason to sleep upon silken pillows of unrehearsed death.
Riding contemptuously alone - grudging every ounce of strength it must share along the way.
Fell silent - reaching out to no one - keeping close, it's fears.
Surreptitiously slipping by unnoticed, sequels of a requiem mass done some time ago.
Sandwiched between the light of day and it's evening dawn - tripping hesitantly - almost falling into the snare of faith.
Dropping singly into puddles, our minds find contentment on distant shores.
Sealing fate with the kiss of death - emptiness spreads out and fills everything with it's darkness.
Secretly wishing for a new day to break - all the while knowing that only souls who break in two can move forward.
The dark room lies waiting - it's emptiness is just like me inside.