Night comes
Night comes. Is here. Full moon hanging. And I wander. Stumble and fall on the question of reaching tomorrow.
Trusted friend. The night. No other is in comparison. I give myself to her. Give myself up.
But the new day. After night. I am not sure. I have no certainty.
Why should it be reached? As if it was a question. Or a choice. I question absurdity.
Nothing is there. Nothing is waiting. I have no conquests to make. My crusades have been exposed.
There is not even fear. Here. Futility has turned into silence.
Only one distant bell can be heard at night. I do have longing. Something does exist.
Poetry by efflux
Read 480 times
Written on 2006-10-16 at 23:06
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