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We Who Haunt the Night

My sleep is a broken

fractured thing

I wake frequently to

the dark night

disoriented

out of sync

lost in the in-between

 

I am a wanderer

in these phantom hours

searching the ether

for omens and portents

messages spray painted

on tunnel walls of obsidian

hunting for clues written

in the hidden language

used only by our kind

 

What messages have been

left for me?

Will I decipher them in time?

I feel the vibration

of other souls

in this spiraling night

recognize the invisible

brush of fingertips

always just out of reach

 

We are searching

always searching

in this dark maze

but never meeting

in the center

where the starlight hovers

and the shadows

are not so deep

where there is comfort

for the weary wanderer

in the arms of our brethren

and blessed rest

 

© 2017 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All rights Reserved

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