How can I tell you, dearest friend of all,
What you have meant, and mean right now, to me?
Through deepest silence you can hear my call,
Your eyes see through my soul, set my ghosts free.
Weary, so weary, is this heart of mine,
Nor is there for me any rest in sight,
How can I feel so helpless and so fine,
Stumbling through darkness, bathed in steady light.
Such easy riddles I weave with a smile,
They need no sword to solve them, nor much wit,
Yet I’ve no answers, at least none wothwhile,
Only a puzzle whose pieces won’t fit.
My writing, music and old friend are here,
Gone are my soul and my word, though, I fear.
From Of Pain and Ecstasy: Collected Poems (C) 2011 Victor D. López