Knotted fingers made of gray smoke,

choke the sunlight from weary eyes.

The sun drowns behind mountains,

always falling when doomed sleepers wake.

Muscle turns to sand and spills,

onto a cold floor, kissed by the night air.

Mind becomes a weary boulder,

on a faltering mountain covered in fog.

Forsaken by the light,

 in darkness, emptied hope walks alone.

Joys of the illuminated world

dance in fading memory.

. . .

Copyright © 2019 Zachary W. Gilbert