Leavings

Through the black of the night forest;
There is no end in sight.
And I stride upon the strength of my steed . . .
Searching . . . 
Where could he be?

The darkness never ceases
And with every step I trod,
My heart dies a million little deaths . . . 
Yearning . . .
Why has he gone?

The fear can only multiply.
The pain shall always increase.
And forever I go on . . .
Searching . . . 
Where could he be?