The sound of being left alone
Soars through these plains
as the ocean washes a mist of reality
upon the poet’s dry brow.
But tarmac leads the way
if one is to walk out of these woods.
I miss your cheeks’ softness as I caress the rugged bark
You can’t see the stars without the dark.
So ahead one must dig
In order to find what was always deep within
Night or day, go astray
As we find ourselves in sin.