Here I learn to die alone as I explore the enlightenment of darkness.
Thus as I soar up to the Godshead I find myself embraced.
Not by regret or loss nor the one who thought to thieve my heart
for even now its drum pounds fervently beneath my breast.
But by the gentle song of thewind and the lonesome cry of a night owl.
Thus resigning to my sentence in solitude
as they too seek compassion in
- The dark.
© Charles Coakley Simpson 2009