Home (original poem of mine)

When moons white ravaged light
Shreds it’s pearlescent shadow
And the night’s young child seeks to play
As the ache
that I couldn’t know.
Tomorrows breath
leans over my shoulder
Undoubted.

Soft as a quiet meadow dawn
Still
enough to bite this empty thorn
It’s crude tongue leaves no taste
My lips are dry
and the salty edge of each wave
leaves me sweet as the green of the weeds beneath.

Where no light
seeks to disdain
The concrete judder of my heart
The empty vessel goes unshaken
A gentle plateau of complacency
the furrows of my love are long buried.

The jagged plaster of the mountainside
has sealed my fate
Locked in the frozen tide of it’s granite loving arms
Bearing their white tinted souls

The city lights spark and tear at my flesh
the grinning teeth of industry below me
Make me swallow the dead wing of my parched throat
Till the silk wormed light drags me home.

I hope that there is nothing (original poem of mine)

I hope that there is nothing
Not the blankness
Of a blank page
Nor whiteness
Or peace
Or any earthly feeling.
This Earth
Bestowed on me
Enough of these aches,
Enough,
That I don’t need more,
For many lifetimes ahead.

I wish to leave
To nothing
Where there is no one
And none of this,
That has kept me living
Or kept me hoping,
For what is life,
But hoping for a reason,
If anything.

The past and the present and the future
Will be gone,
And not even forgotten.
Do I wish to be left
Like an empty heart
Or, an open door
A new beginning,
new learning,
New this
New that.
I can tell you,
That I have learnt.

A nothing
It cannot be described.
When you leave
You are remembered
And that is it.
I hoped today
That this would be it.
What keeps me here
Is the fear that,
My way out
Is just another way in…
What cruel host
Makes a revolving door of this fate?