The journey into midnight

A Poem by Perdition

I use to walk these roads towards midnight

silent as the rising moon

no door or star to beckon

no pace or hand to hold

Just a shell

that palace beyond my memory

where the summers have descended unrepaid

Inside the city's mill I listen to the isotopes at sway

every pallet emptied and unreplaced

every radioactive remainder laid stripped to the ion

withering beneath the bone

I've walked these streets before

passing the crackling bulbs of a homeless street lamp

they've known my name from the whispers of the wilderness

they've heard my days ripped from their meaning

they offer me a bellow for the chill back home

Once there I'll listen for another sound

those wounds that use to show

a mind that could scream like thunder

and its marking of life made in the crimson of blood and snow

And further

still farther away

the price from year to year seemed to follow

no longer the meat attached to bone

no longer the willingness proposed

Out there I saw a high limbed tower

out there I felt an indigene

a crypt where my name could rest and grow

it called as if unaware

and soon the dawn lifted in laughter

as I stood from the seeds into self

Yes, I've walked these road towards midnight

no stranger to the dark

wandering over the miles to a home that once

dreamed a kinder friend

now, a dizzy heart in the city alone

left to find some graceful end

© 2023 Perdition

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Reviews

Chris Shaw

Your journey into midnight stands lonesome with no visitors. Can’t believe that no one has called and left a comment here. I wonder why? The tone and mood are dark and there is a feeling of isolation. There is a lack of warmth here in your lines and your posted image is certainly cold although the lamp light shines bright in the silence.

Chris