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.
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