| Night From Day |
| Eerily they have all returned, my past lovers from far and wide. Ghosts of heratics long since burned passionately come to my side. I look at them with detachment unable to understand, why? They return to this entrenchment instead of taking to the sky. I must greet them tentativly for I have been away so long, away from such depravity wicked wind with a tragic song. As I build a home all alone they fill the rooms with sentiment. Their hands clutch at my flesh and bone free of the hurt and resentment. And I look long into their eyes for a gleem of a future bright, but all hope for that slowly dies the arms of the past hold me tight. Cold comfort on a night like this, now that I know the other way. Unable to find humanly bliss. Unable to tell night from day. ~E.C. 7/26/2001 |