the wind whimpers
in the willow branches
a fluttering sigh
in tender resignation
as the sun glints
a million daggers of
golden light on the
choppy lake resplendent
with frolicking waves
there is an unquenchable
agony in witnessing
this overload of wonder
to be surrounded by
unfathomable beauty
yet knowing no single
seed will ever take root
in your own dead soul
the acceptance of the
abject ugliness that is
reflected in the mirror
is all you’ll ever have
as the wind whimpers
in the willow branches
i long to be swept beneath
the frolicking waves
another empty vessel
buried in the silt
far below the sun and
her vibrantly spiteful
disingenuous glare