There's a service today,
A young man I don't know,
The cold I've come out of my own skin.
I'm falling down and down, keep going.
Is there any truth in this master confusion?
It isn't even a storm anymore,
It's calm and with good people gone now,
From this bright day,
I speak to the familiar—
I'm a stranger, ignore.
Even the wind is nowhere.
How will I get away from this
painfully content garden, I've grown
Before,there was an urgency, a reason;
My friends slay dragons, my love talks to the sky,
My body heavier, though thinner than usual,
Semicolons aren't enough to keep anyone.
All I hear is sad music.
by Stephen D. Bolen