Poem Number 1071

you again
me but not me
a river washes away
what time can't
and fear won't

to find freedom in each death
a hope for relief for all
that suffer the same fate
letting the grip release the only anchor
to any real or imagined landscape
--
an illusion and discomfort
the unrequited and unresolved
sense that there was a piece
that fit where the emptiness
breathes
--
to protect us from the sensation
that if any moment we relax our vigilance
we will be swallowed in blackness
that follows the unsuspecting
yet never seems to worry them
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great read. i like this. - N