Sorrow draws its’ deepest breath from
All the others always leaving.
And in my dying days up unto the evening
Of my demise the quiet swelling of soul deep
Sorrowful moods came upon me in the waking hours.
And in slumber I did reside in stillness of shadows
In their ebb and flow, pulsing of shades of gray
Of depths yet unfathomed. I need. I need.
And it aches too deep, yet deeply thus I dreamed.