I Write Poems

Black

Clinging to ledge
Stretching blood scratched finger tips out
On hard cold stone
gusts trying to pry me away
In the darkness
Clinging to you

A shale of scripts and prophesies
Fell past us
Worn out creeds
Into the deep dark chasms of ignorance
Into the shallow stream
Down and down and down
Out of sight
No longer sounds
No longer echoes of a time before

Still clinging
Still intent on sheltering you
Hardened icy isolation
Unable to move