Another black night, another black hole
Within a heart, which cares no more
Of what has gone, or what it sees,
Cares even less, for what has been.
When love has died, and gone away
You care no more for words that say,
"I'll love you 'till the end of time,"
They ring not loud, nor shine sublime.
You travel on in empty space,
While eyes stare from an empty face
That does not smile, or care to try,
For all has ceased, and waits to die.
So it goes in every way,
The sun will rise to light the day,
Until the black brings endless night,
Into a soul, that's taken flight.
Rusty Blackwood.
Copyright 2002-09.
~ Depression can be an open pit with no bottom.
When you stare into it all you think about - all
you wish for is to find the bottom, find an end.
Inspiration can appear from the least expected place.
I wrote this poem on a difficult, late August evening
in 2002 - I was glad to be able to see September. ~
R.B.
