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The hollow sighs relief with darkness’ touch
where silent eyes can see yet not perceive.
Fanciful fruits flourish though all too much
A melancholy tune: A choking heave.
The soils are starved as light has lost it’s way.
A velvet skin amongst whimpering veins
abides the time when fear does disobey
for in the dark, it’s light which darkness maims.
Dead silhouettes are shackled to the walls.
Empty like slate repenting out of fear
with ears ablaze attached to distant calls
of ghosts reborn that sing as far as near.
And yet within the freedom of the light
Behold the touch of darkness and it’s plight.