Day and night would
blend, one into the other,
while I held in my hands
a life that soon would vanish.
Dismal season, I would
come to call the years
of love I spent with you,
a harm not soon forgotten.
Degraded by this
arrogant lover, stripped
of fortune by Fate,
I became surrounded by a word,
a word some know as
HATE.
Much of my soul,
that stood unshaken,
moves on to seek,
by wisdom, not delusion,
the present, taken
step by step,
day by day.
For, in these hours
of solitude, prolonged
to free my flesh
which is marked by sorrow,
the silence departs
and drowns again in sleep.
Avery Robertson