Hither
Come trail my love to its tracks
While they still keep off rust,
While they still ignore the cracks,
And while they still dread the dust.
And trust, love,
That life is too finite
And so much like a dove
That has no real right
To perch still for a cure
That hides from sight
And makes unsure-
Like light
That tires of trying to see
That darkness in the corner
That fears to free
Itself- and boldly enter...
But it's silence
That I still hear;
'Evanescence'
Tempts hoarsely in my ear...
poem by Eon Ezkiel
Added by Poetry Lover
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