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A Message For The Mourning Beloved...

every morning
i write

but not for you
today

every morning is
a sacrifice

an offering for
the goddess of
truth

every morning is
an exercise of honesty

the night may still
be on that stage of
denial

i may write for you
soon

i do not wish you
to read for now

it will be
incredible
nothing is
worth believing

for the meantime that
the words are
still constructed

what you see actually
is not what you get

there is a ripe fruit
for the season &
it will be for your personal
picking

tomorrow is the best
place for you
to fathom the depths of
my suffering

you lay in bed crying
and you wipe your tears

the thoughts will come
like sunshine on the window

then you will have a hint
of me

and you follow it
like a bird
flying away to a
faraway hill

towards a cave
where darkness is a little bit
mixed

with light and shadows and
creeping sounds of
bats
& glowing worms

then you shall understand
what everything in me is all about

you see
you can only understand the past
when you have arrived
at the room of the
future

when what you remember of me is only the wind
what what i am to you is no longer a star.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
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