Inside Myself

Where the distance from here to there,
is a vast desert,
reaching far beyond our sight.
Wrapped in solitude and silence,
where the blackness of pain survives,
without nourishment or empathy.
When pieces of the past,
float lazily upriver,
stinging the open wound.
Eyes are closed against the assault,
when knife meets heart,
and slowly shrinks,
beyond the hurt called love.
Still we cherish,
what once was and always will be,
passages of time,
eclipses with darkness
and the memories,
of long ago.
Fragments slip from our grasp,
and melt like the setting sun,
into the netherworld,
where life is not all that kind.