The dance

On dark, lurid formless nights,
Spectres play under lightless lights,
And raincast, lonesome mornings
That accost self-inflicted longings,
In them- my all is lost, and all is pain,
In days and nights, hopes are lost again.

There isn't a light piercing the dark,
And this alone is my truth, stark.
There isn't a silver lining on any cloud,
There isn't a single voice I hear in the crowd.
And this is where I stand, where I stay,
Where I wait for shadows to wilt away.

You won't see me, I'm a phantom call,
If in time, my presence will move you at all,
I'm the dim wilted aroma that rose today
When your muddy conscience, affection did spray.
I'm the voice hidden in windy talks,
Edging through trees, brushes and stalks.

I'm the clarity on a fogless night,
Clear dark, semi transparent in sight.
I'm the taper of the rains in May,
The eager dances of droplets gay.
I'm the one you seek, and never will find,
From now, I'm only a figment of your mind.



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