I Drank Alone, ‘Neath the Spheres

I want to sleep
near a fire of
drift
wood, dredged
from a withered sea.
Towers fallen, sapped,
life picked clean
of hope,
heritage scattered
along barren earth,
broken and waiting.
In the potential of Dawn’s
desolation comes the Stranger
who names my name and
sings my loss and whispers
the Truth that didn’t burn.


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