THE CHASM

Where are you while I wander
Into the wilderness
Of my own making?
Do you see it too,
The stark creation
Of imagination
With so little to show?

If I were lost here nomadic,
Would you leave me be
Or pursue and rescue?
The plain is barren and rugged,
Sharp on the feet
That do not preach
The gospel of peace.

Here there is no one to listen;
Seclusion feels familiar
In the chasm of thought,
Incapable of getting across -
Such that when I call out
To the dust and clouds
Even you do not answer.

I would shut and lock the gates
If only that would stop me
From coming here again
To search for that which was lost
Before hope betrayed,
When dreams became lies
For the foolish at heart.