Dark Hour

What are you doing with me God? What are you doing with me Earth? What is your plan? I've always thought this suffering To be a blessing that in time Will reveal itself to me And I will be the better for it. Have I not wanted? Have I not spent each night Dreaming the same dream. Is it a dream? Or am I sleep walking through life, A zombie of the penitentiary... this life. Have I not offered sorrow for this dark hour? Not offered myself up as bait to this, Impenetrable mouth? Have I not been the callus one for you? Speaking one phrase and letting it Govern me, Each syllable Deepening it and breathing it Into my bosom. For what cause? For what purpose? What unearthly shores beckoning me? I have not the answers. Though I know not, How is it this seemingly homesickness Dwells within me As though I have once known it Called it out by name, Reached for it with generous fingers, And it has left me now? Left me, Leaving me to wait for it To come and take me And make me it's own. Do not the trees whisper their secrets to me? Do they not seek me out in the night, Placating me in reverie And leaving me unto morning With utter unrememberment blue. "Je ne sais pas. Je ne sais plus. Je suis perdu."