panning for gold

the words are there
just within reach
but a tenebrae of
sweet sadness keeps
them elusively aloof

a fast week where i
managed to actually
form a corporeal form
and frolic as if i
were a real boy for once

no crushing silences
or undue anxieties
just a peaceful pace
existing in time with
the world around me

reality has reasserted
its insidious stranglehold
snuffing the candles
that lit these empty halls
leaving a fearsome dark

and i am here alone again
listening to the planes
knowing i am going nowhere
at the speed of light
in a dazzling display of woe

another week panning
the half frozen streams
cursing the silt and shells
choking in quiet need
hoping for metallic flakes

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