Alone in a lonesome wood hearing the mouths that sing a child’s lullaby

all alone looking for creation or a sign there’s still life

the lonesome wood the lullaby of the darkness

the skin on defence the mind defenceless

the desolation of your every breath and heartbeat

the stirrings of the breeze on your neck

the branches of the willows stirring you

the synapse senses the river at your feet

as you wade into the deep

to be swallowed whole

maybe it will make you whole again

as the water lilies blossom in the darkness

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