I am cold and it is dark here. I can hear the mourner's song drift softly on a warm, stale breeze. They sing of a river over yonder; funny, I don't see a river. I see a blank void where we must make our own existence; where nothing breaths. Everything dies, but I am cold and it is dark here. I don't know where I am. I can cry, I can scream......none will answer. They are not with me; they sing the mourner's song that drifts on the warm, stale breeze. How do I find my way back to the warmth of home when there are no road-signs, and noone going with me? This pressing darkness weighs heavily on my soul, and I am cold.
Reason for writing:
What inspired me to submit this poem was the simple fact that I want other people to be able to read and enjoy my poems.
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View more poems by Tammy LeClair, Leo.