darkness

this is the dark time

of the year, when

black tides roll over 

the moving land

these are the nights,

long and filled with rumbling

when the wind roars

in the chimneys

and blows through windows

and you shiver in bed

and wake in dense blackness

creeping into your soul

there is nobody

but blood drumming

in your ears

and listening is all

what remains.

it is, they say,

what stays alive

longest when you die.

there is nothing to feel

next to you,

not even in mind,

all is bleak.

and you wait

for a full moon

to shine on frozen worlds

snow softly falling

bringing silence

and the breath of roots

covered may green

in your soul.

though hope

appears so far

you know

a new life will rise

and then

you sleep

in domes of blue

letting all go.

you do not know

the promiss of mornings.

they do not disturb

the rhythm of such night,

of such sleep.

now in the deep

i am alone.