A Sense of Sorrow

A Sense of Sorrow

The darkness and vastness of the center
Bends over the vastness of each beginning—
Over the rivers of memory, you spread
Rivers of sick sorrow to each end.

The end of each vein springs blood
And blood seeps into the water of light.
Water finds its own reference point
And each point fingers mud on granite.

The mud that covers your soul
Will shuck itself in the soul of sorrow.