Thursday, November 3, 2011

November, one more year

In the waiting room the air turns sour
Ears open, but they catch no sounds
The moments gape like open wounds
A hundred thousand every hour.

Visions of a time long gone,
Remembered land across the sea;
Can any ship there carry me?
My heart sinks in the light of dawn.

I seek and search, my heart has flown;
The journey's done, the door's now shut.
Search seaside, seek the forests, but
where it lies hid God knows alone.

Familiar sight, detested place,
Back into the waiting room,
Strung up inside the waiting room,
The future hangs on will and grace.
It's grey and grey, and grey and grey
In the prison outside and within myself.
No words can penetrate the self
that's lost its hope, that's lost its way.

Night comes, and darkness dyes the very air
Where my perceived bonds bind fast.
But the stars emerge like a trumpet blast
Through doors and windows everywhere.

Whence came these burning points of white?
Their pure light bursts my lowered head,
Their voices pierce through what was dead
In me, and herald fairer sight.

They bring the sun, and with its rays
The sad world's bathed in roses' wine.
Look down, the chains are gone, no sign
Of that which held me in this place.

The sad world stays, but all throughout
Dart bright pinpricks of eager souls,
Escaping waiting rooms and holes
To run their paths with joy, and shout
With mirth to find a kindred soul--
A soul to share their dreams and vision,
Inspiration, motivation,
And forge ahead with common goal.

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