Never am I lower than when I met the night tonight on high
The soft hiss of humming tires carry on in the distance
as if some drawing waves are reaching for my balcony
Why are their beds empty at this hour?
A snapping crunch sneaks between the rosemary bushes--
quivering, deep and shaggy with their pointed barbs, so gentle
they resemble fat lavender bubbles from my window now
A dog howls within earshot--a deafening pitch,
like the pull of a bow across crusted violin strings
It continues to whine into my life unaware of me
None of these noises, these numb instances, are of anything here
Simple, familiar, boring, as the tattered throw upon my shoulders
No, no, it is not a sound that introduces us--quite different...
but the shout of a distant voice, breathless, which seals my senses
Her song is silence, an empty hollow, left where the wind runs
I creep onto damp blades of sleeping grass--green needled carpet--
looking up into a creamy soup of deep purple...perfectly endless,
left as a pebble before a coliseum forever growing, never finished
I listen, hold my heartbeat level, letting my head fall back to a tilt
We speak minutes on years, tip toes to fathoms, nothing into all...
A man with but a shadow lives in solitude, solely by willful choice,
for he who is truly alone looks into my eyes, content with his doubt
Those few words strike cold, twisted knots of agony, stretched--
I had unraveled from my father's heart--sewn into a memory
But soon a soft balm falls atop my wound, a heat kisses this icy ache
for due to this encounter under a faceless sky, I finally realize--
my family is together, everywhere, mine within everything inside
I meet the night tonight, at the loneliest time in my life...
never more.
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