the distant lake

o love, you knew, and i did not.
the weather changed, the tension grew,
and all i hoped i though i knew
went crumbling away, like dust
that blows out windows towards
the distant lake.

o heart, you held on to the truth:
that seasons tell us what is real,
that what we do shows what we feel;
that words we don’t say must
like rising waters one day

  a whole that lives in parts,
  continuation, layered bits of starts,
  a heart that knows its own, its blood,
  and love that thrives, even upon the flood —

there is no other way, no happy way.
the sun went down on fading day
where once again, you chose to stay
while i some far horizon sought,
not knowing what i loved the most
was close at hand, but could be never


Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

One thought on “the distant lake”

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