a light in the window

petulant silence

in the cavern of I.

art carved into the

walls that lead from

beginning to end

(I'm half way home now)

the sky is hard as rock,

I dare not fly into it. but

walk upon these ancient

sands that just seem to

be getting colder

(there's a light in the window)

my young hands have

aged with every breath.

voices of those who have

passed... how nice it is to

hear them again

(incense burns in a thurible)

I long for one last love,

the greatest of these.

life aches for a remedy,

soon I'll be on my hands

and knees crawling again

(I'm not familiar here at all)

(Image from artworkarchive.com)