Grief

O outer senses there is peace,
A dreamy peace on either hand,
Deep silence in the shadowy land,
Deep silence where the shadows cease.

Taken from "La Fuite de la Lune" by Oscar Wilde

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Silence to balm my restless mind,
Awash with questions, legion doubts.
Loss and betrayal splashed such joy,
Voices who sing only mem'ry-
And voices pester nevermore.
Inconstant nature cannot cease,
And only stillness can release.
The quiet of this night answers,
Dominion where oneness has lease,
O outer senses there is peace.

The moon is hiding, charcoal sky,
And snow has frosted everything.
The air is crisp and hisses soft,
Sending people home so restful.
The night's young, but feeling ancient,
The constant loss of mortal sand.
Sifting through my fingers to join,
Mem'ry, the former side of now.
These special moments cannot stand,
A dreamy peace on either hand.

Twisting land of sleeping dreamers,
The dead don't lie, regret verbose.
It murks in static sometimes clear,
Crystal words spoken to one's dear.
It shifts and twists as stomachs can,
Painful mem'ries beset in band.
And I run to an end of things,
A deep place with no mind for thought.
This is the sound of long spent sand,
Deep silence in the shadow land.

Dreams do end, but light comes again,
Morning comes for cowards and men.
Light accounts fevered rationals,
Scenarios saving the still-
We shake our heads in confusion.
Time only works for healing. Grease
Content in you fellow's comforts.
Living's own purpose is succor,
With one's friends is the only peace,
Deep silence where the shadows cease.