For the Coming Dawn
From my heart, the pain flowed,
And I clasped my bleeding wounds.
My name’s letters became disfigured,
Yet upon your name, an echo lingered.
I wonder, when tears streamed
At the dawn of our parting,
Was my heart truly parched for warmth?
How ardently I dreamed
Of meeting you.
But creation’s day arrives to shatter you,
Scattering the image
That longing had painted
Of you with your beloved.
My voice was silenced,
Slaughtered by your words—the wisdom
Lost within me, yet seeking you still.
The taste of irrigation from the heart’s fields
Flows down, shaping your form.
You placed a mark from your sleeve upon my pulse,
And the dreamer embraces you,
his arm around yours.
Your blood still courses,
Completing him from within.
I never truly knew the meaning of fear,
Nor a night whose darkness
Crept over my shoulders,
Nor did I ever witness
The demons of my silence ignite you.
For the coming dawn.
