Words of Silence On the Beach

A footstep so smooth; A word so candid, yet strong: A mind, so full of empathy, came straight up to my heart: Knock, knock, knock, are we there? Or, are we still strangers? The long pile of stories of life, Unfolded, into your lap, with tears — Some horrid, some slimy, but all true. Solutions and steps were put forth: Knock, knock, knock, are we there? Or, are we still strangers? Moments of silence, in tears, Emotions riding high, Darkness so deep, fathomless; Keyboard, whispers, brought hope. Life sprouts, naturally, With light, and manure — right, Springing from words of wisdom: Knock, knock, knock, are we there? Or, are we still strangers? A ray of light sprouted, as did life, From within me; and my words Grew wings of fire, and sprung Right onto paper, as poems and news. Alas, the thrill lasted not long — Black venom of the fire of Satan Swirled around me, eating me up: Knock, knock, knock, are we there? Or, are we still strangers? The silence, construed as disregard, The lag and the arguments; Words of war, and then — SILENCE. Search, search, search… Life went off action; No sound, no light, no life. SILENCE, SILENCE, SILENCE. Knock, knock, knock, are we there? Or, are we — after all — strangers?