by: Jason T. McGuire
So we sit without light
and travel further into
the deep smoldering smoke
of who we use to be.
Yet when my hand reaches out,
I feel another. The touch is
relaxing and softening to my heart
and right away I know its not you.
The touch waves in and out
as the smoke thickens and lets up,
as we journey to where it all began.
And as we met the touch was lost.
But when I went home
the touch returned, and my heart
slowed down as I read
the commandments for all to follow.
So we sit and travel
and I wish I should've followed
the footprints that were at my side
when you were not around.
But I wondered from the path
and found the white powder
easier than the path set forth,
and now I will never reach the gates.