I have walked the empty marches,
fading light on one horizon
blessed darkness at the other,
welcoming the wanderer.
Crossed again these misted borders,
where desire sings to dream
of my each forgotten hunger;
left the burning lands of life,
gazed upon an endless sea,
vast and black, devoid of promise
save that of eternal peace.
Ah, to sleep in those cold waves,
lulled by wordless, timeless song,
never waking, never waking.
Others drop their burdens here,
ever lost on this lost shore,
slip into oblivion.
No, not yet. I'll walk my dark
only to find light once more;
I can not deny the sun.
It will rise to find me traveling
on the marches of the day.
Stephen Brooke ©2007
maybe shoulda been longer...or shorter...