Saturnine Night
standing on the edge of a precipice
challenging the tumultuous wind
feeling the chill as it touch my skin
distorted thoughts streaming
the pang of anguish so palpable
the stench of rage lingering in the air
emanating from within
engraved on every senses
searching for the beacon light
to illuminate this cold and eerie night
to guide and bring me home
but there's nothing there
nothing to soothe the grief
there's only the sound of this silent
but seething inner commotion
in this long and sullen night.
Copyright © May Watler | Year Posted 2010
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