The Dejected


A lonely tree in the dark,
is all that remains
of what I once was.

The white stem is lit up,
though I can’t see the light source
and everything else is covered in darkness. 

A lonely mountain lion screams in despair,
but in my mind it's the wail of a wraith.
It’s the sound of grief, 
and the echo of my darkest desires coming alive,
my sweltering passion becomes one
with the nature of everything around me.

Walking up to the tree is easy, 
but I dare not touch it. 
I see little of the colourful, majestic crown,
but each leave represents a dream that has been implemented,
filled with the hopes of the hopeless,
filled with the lust of the spiritless,
filled with the tears of those with stark desires, 
but with holes in their hearts. 

And I am the wraith. 

The mountain lion cries again,
the sound is hardly audible,
still it pushes the dim thoughts away
and they vanish into the surrounding darkness,
darkness that's all inside me,
and I brave the world and touch the stem of the tree.

I feel how my heart refills, 
with hopeless dreams and inexplicable joy,
I see your face before me,
I hear your voice in the cries of the mountain lion,
a soft calming whisper this time,
and you tell me that you were never out of reach,
never far away,
never gone,
but always right there in my heart,
slowly swaying to the music of my life,
to the melody of my sorrows and of my victories,
and now I have this tree to show for it,
a tree surrounded by the comforting darkness,
winter’s harness. 

I cry out like the mountain lion
when I feel your hand touching mine,
reaching out from inside the stem, 
pulling me close.

And I will never be liberated from this embrace,
nor do I yearn for freedom.
It’s energising, 
being caressed by my own forsaken ardor.

 Spark by MichaelMarshall Smith

Spark by MichaelMarshall Smith

Copyright © Eyglo 2016