A simple prayer

So God, do what you will with me. i’m tired and hurting and honestly i cant put up much of a fight anymore. you’ve caught me in a web of love and, no matter how hard i try, i cant break free. i feel the summer ending and the winter coming on. the wind lifts the curtains in the darkness.

i think that maybe i’ll let go of my blankets. maybe i’ll walk… maybe, but i haven’t the strength for it yet. when you’re sick and dying, you begin to fall in love with things that are perfectly and wonderfully ordinary. and the poorer you become, the more you come to understand the value of the world. so who is really wise?

it’s like crying into a mirror when the lights have all gone out. like a figure in the fog or in the clouds. it’s like a memory, long forgotten, that visits you in dreams. it’s like the leaves that breathe and die; it’s like knowing each and every one of them. it’s like a soft, slow, muted trumpet singing you to sleep every time you close your eyes.

Empty Sometimes

sometimes, when i’m walking up the stairs to you the lights go out and there’s nothing. i’m just standing suddenly and the only thing i know is that the floor is down. i’ve heard the blind hear things too faint for the rest of us. i could hear a heartbeat if i tried. the floor is getting smaller.

the last words are always the hardest, but once they come they are. they reach out far and gather up the beginnings and the ends of things. the last breath, the last man, the last note; the very end of long days come, the sun and moon, a distant drum, nowhere to turn, nowhere to run.

i am done. i am gone. i’ll recite the end i wrote while you were sleeping. dreaming songs and hopes and silver moons, the rivers drawn like viens across the ground. the floor is down and soon we’ll be, like fingers crossed and battles lost, like ghosts of you and me.