The emptiness of the void is betrayed by a burning cold.

A cold burning for what it once had?

A cold burning for what is misses?

A cold burning for lack of a returning echo.

 

A returning echo begun by a screaming heart.

A screaming heart for fear of abandoning?

A screaming heart for long felt longing?

A screaming heart that begs for one whisper of hello.

 

One whisper of hello carried on the breeze of a crone’s joy.

A crone’s joy laughing in its innocence?

A crone’s joy reveling in its faintest smile?

A crone’s joy unknowing of its blind coldness.

 

Blind coldness spreading over land and sea without ending.

Without ending of a story that never was?

Without ending of a river of salt stained skin?

Without ending of a forever dream that was never meant to be dreamt.

 

To be dreamt in the quiet hours of the darkest moments.

Darkest moments hiding sadness?

Darkest moments hiding torment?

Darkest moments embracing with caring sorrow.

 

Caring sorrow befriends the loneliest soul

The loneliest soul hoping for too much?

The loneliest soul dreaming too much?

The loneliest soul  wanting the void to be empty and burning cold no longer.

 

The loneliest soul…

The loneliest soul…

The loneliest

soul.

 

© 2019 Ronovan Hester Copyright reserved. The author asserts his moral and legal rights over this work.