Endless Days

Endless days of no one there at all.
Autumn ways that last right through the fall.
A sorrow in the wind is sweeping
gently through the everything that is.

A field of grief. A form can be too brief.
Gathering and growing into death.
A mystery, the transubstantiation.
Particles arranged in dreams' direction.

There is really no such thing as sanity.
Chaos dwells within their vanity.
Despoiling all the boredom of their order.
Pulling them across another border.

Pushing them into a depth
they never cared to know.
Alone again, inside themselves,
with no one left to tell them where to go.

Filling up the shell with their emotive fantasies.
Blinking back the tears that need to leave.
Holding on to all the letting go.
Freezing in the melting of the snow.

Tangled threads within a weave
too full of their complexity
to find a way back home.
Facing out, they cannot find their souls.

Lost within the endless days of no one there at all.
Autumn ways that last right through the fall.
A sorrow in the wind is sweeping
gently through the everything that is.

A spirit in the wind, a gentle kiss upon their brow.
The fullness of a life extends beyond the feel of now.
Reaching out and pulling in. Letting go, the world spins.
Bringing all the tenderness back home...

? Michaelette ?

10/17/2003
Copyright© 2003 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .