Down the road
a boy would
go
a boy would
go
into darkness
fearless
afraid,
she never stayed
and the living gravel
would bite
at his feet
would bite
at his feet
whilst moving headlong through
a kind of haunted sleet
"a cold has come"
though he trudges on
to some unknown end
to begin
again
where was she
if ever she were there
the flame of his despair
a warmth of a kind
that left no trace
behind
that she would ever
care
again
then he would pause
indifferent to
any cause
any cause
and upwards he would
gaze
gaze
into a kind of blinding
space
space
where a light should
cut its
way
way
casting off
remnants of a
past
at once forgotten,
spoken of
in hushed tones
in hushed tones
a memory of a reminder
that she were there,
any and every
where
head down
reposed
onward he
goes, his
Saranesia
in the distance
knows.
