Wilting Beneath The Full Moon

I wilt beneath the full October moon like a desert flower.

My laments climb silver beams upon sorrows broken ladder.

Shadows dance from the corner of my eye by trick of light.

Solemn are the remembrances of when my angel took flight.

Prostrate is my hope which cries upon a slanted future.

I seek the light by the hour now and no longer the day.

With folded hands and upon bruised bent knees…I pray.

I come in humility; I come with a broken spirit seeking peace.

I watch in the forever silence as the shadows upon my sorrow feed.

NO MORE my broken little mind shouts into the deepening night.

NO MORE for I wilt beneath the full moon and my angels flight.

 J. Allen Wilson © 10/14/08