The winds swell, pregnant with heat
as dusk approaches and thunder looms.
I fling myself into the deep,
the bolt god’s anger flashing high above.
The desired fallen, the wayward star–
I drift like a lost island on the emerald sea.
Tossed on the waves, wind-swept and beaten,
I no longer know where to turn for guidance.
Perhaps I should drink from Lethe’s waters
and forget, immerse myself in Acheron
or lose my mind on the banks of Styx.
I extend my arms, a teardrop shooting out
from center. The darkness spreads
but I still smile, constellations manifested
in my dreams. I offer you my shores,
a haven in the storm. Do not run away,
I pray. Do not leave me here, alone
with only gulls and driftwood to pass the time.
My spirit rises above the grey, if only
just to let him know…I will shine.
Copyright © 2011 by Christopher Chaffin – All rights reserved