The Sadness

The Sadness

It is not that the

sun stopped shining,

that the earth grew dark and cold,

it is not that the

clouds moved nearer,

that the days shrank withered, old.

It is not that the

crown of darkness

was placed on Winter’s brow,

it is not that the sun’s stopped shining

in the frosty heavens now,

it is not that the earth is silent and lies as hard as stone,

but that I in my pale, cold prison,

am held here all alone.

In the darkness of all my loathing

my heart beats captive to flesh.

It is not that the nights grow darker

but that Dark is withholding Death.

It is not that the sunlight has vanished,

that the earth is cold and grey,

it is only myself captive, waiting

for Death to take me away.

But Death is held by the winter

as helpless and silent as I,

‘til my spirit returns to my body

and the sun shines again in the sky.