…from some uncertain place

The wind in mournful cadence moans
and consumes all other sounds
singing softly to my soul, an ancient hymn
that whispers through hollow stones
a dark weaver threading despair
the keeper of the the unspoken, leaving in its wake
only a bitter silence where my grief abounds
the thunder rumbles, a distant drum
a soft percussion of lost echoes
I am falling like the leaves fall
dancing in the shadows of darkness
where a hushed voice, just a whisper, reaches me
but my mind, for now, is wandering
my thoughts drifting, unmoored and free
becoming louder and louder
a storm of memories and visions now intertwined
a virtual tempest brewing in my soul
and now , from some uncertain place
your soul is calling back to me
the embers are still burning
shadows are now shifting in the corners of the night
sweeping me away like the autumn leaves
still fragile in transient flight
like a river after a dream
that has gone tumbling across the midnight sky
the moon, my loyal sentinel, is weeping silver
in the depths of the fathomless sky
her light ripples deep inside of me
the air, once again is perfumed, with the scent of sorrow
© Ann Bagnall
2013