There’s too much to say, in the dawns early light, not enough to keep off his mind, sleep eludes him, as he walks along the river. Crystal sublime the moon shines, out of the inky midnight, where no light will go. He holds up his hand, looking through fingers, catching a glimpse of something and then the wishing heart hurts. Out of the gloom, there is nothing to sway, the trees have all gone silent……and then…..the whispers…..they come…..silent and deadly, invading his mind as he stands on the brink. The precipice of the world, watching as the water droplets don’t touch the ground…..
March 8, 2022 Alkronebusch
From the heart poems 