Shadows of Myself.

Shadows Of Myself.

The shadows of myself are

Torn of grief,

That is better than the age that is slowing,

That is better than the tides

Running.

All alone, in myself, I seek the darkness

In the dark,

And the moon glitters like a cloud.

All around me, the wind mourns,

And time spins like a clock.

I am going, I am going,

Everything is hard against the light.

Sometimes I write until dawn breaks;

Sometimes I write until the shadows

Turn, and the animals come out to play,

Like the jackrabbit and the skunk,

Sniffing its trail of tears. 

All along the darkness, things tire,

Things awaken, and nothing is burnt of

Ashes, things are lit with stone.

I am a tired old man who cannot sing

A tune,

I am a tired old man who is on the radio,

Like a darning needle that has lost

Its shine. 

This thought is upon me, that I am waking,

And shadows fade;

Then light is thrust in the dark.