lately there seems
to be this undercurrent
of the world ending
in every shuddered breath
an anxious indecision
rusted blades piercing
tetanus seeps deeply
coating every errant whim

yet still i seek to
wrap moonbeams into a
tiara to place upon
your most perfect brow
trying to decipher the
pulses of the stars into
another ode about the
wildflowers in your smile

i am swaying on these
brackish waters of illness
tossed on the waves of
dire and bleak depression
yet your glorious beacon
pulls me from capsizing
a lighthouse leading me
safely and lovingly home