Cold Ground

The night is full of empty spaces.
Silence rests with unspoken words
and dreams painted in endless black,

between the weeping stars that
bare their sorrow’s past to the world,
where watch and see without hearing.

Cold ground turns hard beneath feet
as they struggle with calm, smoke in hand,
surrounded by the still of late air.

Darkness hangs from the head to the neck,
bleak as the vast thoughts
carried from the day to the day.

The night is full of empty spaces.
Silence rests with unspoken words,
and dreams, painted in endless black.

cold-ground

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