Running Towards Sadness

In the dark wood there are no sounds
above, the light of the headland shines

lay down moribund, lay down little starling
your white-light stars will never leave you

wear your iridescent cloke to ward off evil
live to belong with no catch nor malevolence

leaf litter soft as hot coals, as carpet, as grass
in utterance of your contradiction with the night

running toward sadness whatever lies beneath
magnetised by failure, drawn on by thy compass

executing, sorting, removing, merging into light
suffocation, warnings deny claustrophobic solution

suddenly anthemic sounds warm forgotten ears
rolling back shutters O’ consequence of bitter fear

eyes shut tight see red light white noise dancing
a golden dear in twilight her nose black, shining

she leads the way of delicacy, touch and feeling
she, who stirs the loins at human-kinds desertion

running toward sadness whoever runs beside
mother, sister, lover of us all in the deadwood dying

©edenbraytoday16.05.2022