Low

hands busy with the work of subjection, shackled, and sentenced bear a fate far worse than those idle or cast off and burned in the fire
I would gladly enter the Kingdom maimed if i could but just enter at all
I am desperate for you
my eyes…
hungry and searching the horizon
how long will I wander, aimless, restless, detesting who i am?
how long will I wonder?
where are you?
the stars in my eyes flicker less than I remember
absorbed into the darkness, deep and hollow, alone, barren, and infertile
will you remember me?
will you RE-Member me?

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One response to “Low

  1. Pingback: Absence and Arrival « The Alchemist's Imagination

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