When stars are all alight,
And the wind is soft and cold,
I sit underneath the open sky,
waiting for a mystery to unfold.
I drift into waking dreams
of love, loss and life.
I drift into bleak dreams
of what would come with morning light.
Each day I try to recall
things said and done
But I forget a detail or two
and I know that time has come
for me to leave it all behind
and keep moving on,
but every evening brings back
the memories taken away by dawn.
So I dream; dream with waking eyes
until shrouded by sleep.
I wonder of the truths and lies
until I can no more weep.
I feel no pain, nor any grief.
I feel a numbness – skin deep
I have no longing, nor any wish
But a thought in my mind’s abyss,
That one night these naive stars
Won’t shine on my grotesque scars
To remind me of the skins I’ve shed
Or of the times my heart has bled.
This thought of a dream,
this dream of a thought
is all that I have
and still have it not.
With every morning, each day
a figment of it is taken away.
So bit by bit, when it is all gone,
gone will be a piece of my soul
Leaving a blank canvas of a heart
For another story to be told.