The Void

The hall is wide, the lamps are dimmed and low,
A hollow ache where once a flame burned bright.
I pace the boards where shadows come and go,
And drift through day, awaiting endless night.

I’m a spirit lost, a ship without a sail,
Upon a sea where stillness turns to rust,
I tell my heart that I shall soon prevail,
Yet every hope dissolves to scattered dust.

I chase the glass, I seek the phantom’s grin,
In crowded rooms where hollow laughter rings.
I cast my net to pull a comfort in,
To stifle grief that winter memory brings.

But all I grasp is air, and empty space,
The cavern deepens where the light has fled;
I cannot find a single, warm embrace,
To wake the life that slumbers with the dead.

The void remains, a chasm vast and cold,
It swallows up the joy I strive to feign.
The stories pass, the years of youth grow old,
And leave me tethered to this quiet pain.

I reach to touch the ghost of what was known,
But find but silence in the heavy air;
I walk this path, a wanderer alone,
With nothing but the ghost of my despair.