The Dawn Unseen

The Dawn Unseen

It is morning and the sun has shown itself,
gently overtaking the lingering shadows
which cling to the ground and creep along the path,
from the night before.

But still, it is bleakest winter
within the trenches of a hollowed out heart,
for no light shines down upon this face,
and no shimmer of dawn reflects in these eyes,
for the beauty of the morn is marred
and its cascading radiance shorn,
in a cloud of incandescent translucence,
trickling a path of despair,
morose in its melancholy,
down a face, shuttered and forelorned to the world.

And beside this tragic creature,
fragile and frail in figure and frame,
just beyond eyes of sightless wonder,
with vision narrowed to a single point
somewhere out in space,
sits in silent reverence,
a friend of comfort offering up love without behest.

A quiet friend, who does not speak,
offering up words that hold no truth,
nor does this friend offer up so simply
a shoulder to lean on
or a hand of tender support.
This friend sits mute,
unmoved to sight,
letting their mere presence be,
the kindest reminder,
of lonliness's illusionary grip
upon a battle scarred and wounded heart,
to say, with words unspoken, in simple terms,
"You are not alone because I am with you always,
whether you recognize me here or not. I will be here waiting,
for the time to come when you are ready."

And so they sit, together and apart,
upon the sandy shores of dawn's beauteous bequest,
in silence, save the roaring waves
churning a torrent of unuttered remorse,
as shadows recede into the dark,
and the hand of twilight is stayed till another time.