In Unwritten Pages

Why do we hunt the haunted shadows?

Eyes piercing veils of darkness,

Empty hands reaching to be filled with love,

Only to linger in the void of Want,


Obscure metaphors found lurking,

In the most innocuous of slight refrain,

Dancing ’round protrusions of illusion,

Sculpted by intentional blindness,


Closing our eyes to the reality parade,

Singing passed barren window sills,

The pomp and glitter of hubris,

Writhing and withered,

The contortions of soul,


Lingering in the solitude of stars,

The ones that map the night,

Contrasting my emptiness of heart,

Starkly, but with a smile,


Where lies hope in the hopeless?

Wing rending sky with talons of ink,

Ascending the pages of my heavenly body,

Encompassing the shell of flesh,


Contorting my once immutable way,

Into the path of least resistance,

A river cutting with softly whispered force,

Down the jagged mountainside,


Heaved upon swells, of currents,

Those waters pulled irrevocably, 

By your eyes, I swear they hold the moon,

Captive in their iris,


Reaching in beneath my bones,

Rending the shell of rib cage,

Freeing my heart to emerge a butterfly,

Suckling nectar of your epiphany, 


Yet unfathomable is the depth of me,

Like a still pool of conscience,

Look into my gaze,

And see only yourself reflected.


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