Floating helplessly in between the swaying black
And wispy dark. Caught on the
Battle line of heaven and earth,
And I lie positioned in between.
The gaping hole in my chest had housed only a fake,
for the organ was used only for pumping blood, not
for emotion, passion, or anything that makes us
truly alive. My real heart is back on my island,
tied to the top of the lighthouse where I left it.
I survive only for the possible sight of the rhythmic
Flashing of light somewhere in the distance, piercing
the dark, searching for me. Maybe it has been too
long, the lighthouse has found a new conductor,
to sit in her viewing room, share his thoughts,
and battle the darkness together, each needing
one another, attempting to guide others in the
process. Looking at the moon I hope for a shift
in its pull, redirecting the tides to push me back home.
God, its so quiet out here tonight.