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