Emerging Fog

"In the vastness of nothing, in the world within my world, even the stars are lonely." Stepping off cobbled banks of old ideas and vacated plans, your hands in a fading photograph of silent and armored memory, hope evaporates and courage loses; its spine weakened like cardboard left in the rain. The rock-strewn shore is littered with yellow pages torn from remembrance. The absence of you is lost in a calling, distant land, an oasis of calm in the false promise of an empty bottle of blue obscurity. On a barren shore, soothed by rhythmic incantations of ice in a glass, I reach for the brass ring in wild solitude as I drink the river dry of its blue champagne, crushed under the heels of pain, untouched by my soul's need to breathe, dying in splendid isolation.