Shivering under the light of a pale moon,
slaying another part of our identity in cold despair,
screaming in the shimmering, cold light of dawn,
all are acts of desperation,
a constant reminder of death's shadow,
that ceaseless apparition that lingers in the dark, unknown places.
We pray mantra after mantra,
yet the fear returns again and again,
shuddering in the images of restless dreams,
the flesh wants to return to its birth womb,
but the soul cannot,
for ours is the way of torment and suffering,
standing naked, knee-deep in awkward silences,
shivering in the continued disclosure of uncomfortable truths,
godless and alone.
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Copyright © 1998, 1999 by Lloyd Michael Lohr
Reflections can be sent to Lloyd Michael Lohr.
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