Lost, like a needle in a haystack,
Adrift, unable to find its way back.
A heart gone astray, off, long off,
Wandering in places yet unheard of.
Can I find you, find your essence,
Can I redeem you in the sun’s absence?
Is there a returning from this oblivion,
A coming back to the life you once had?
Everything is precious, but some more than others,
There’s nothing with which one thing does not bother,
Or one person: we do have our preferences,
Those things to which, gone, we’re loathe to make references.
Things like your heart, the space it left testifies,
Of the meaning it has, or had, this is hard.
I drop mine into that cavity, it drops (echo amplified),
And shatters, good intentions in a million shards.