What late forgotten nights
to emptiness has given
And now November morning
will be taken asunder
The shovel stained with dirt
in the hours of belonging
Dug into the undiscovered
of a life, a pest, a plague.
Falling back into the arms—no never!
Admitting to a life alone—no!
Claiming there are sparks inside.
Outside looking back—no!
The lie never stopped.
Clinging to the wave, I cried
and onward to the night!
Expecting not and nothing
in the presence of life.
The deeper that it dug
the more now it had to go.
Surrender was a fact
and the room was decorated
No, no, no—the life never stopped!
What late forgotten nights
to emptiness has given..
The strangers may they
come in ignorance's disguise,
So into the dark walking
to leave the last of times.
Knee-deep in desperation
to fill the gap behind.
Boldly thread the night forever
November thoughts are right—oh, never!
Taken from the fall—no!
Frightened by the key,
but the trail behind the house
felt compelling and new,
the lie never stopped
Found at loss for words,
now words aren't enough.
Someone told,
a vacancy was open
Someone laughed,
the silence here was broken.
Dug up to make room,
The room which we furnaced and traced.
There is no vacancy...
The least can fill the fountain,
The most will flood the mold..
©infj-loki
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