We shout into the void–
With scribbles, songs, and pleas–
To hear a voice come back
As all around us flees.
We look into the west
And strain to find a home,
Where all the rivers meet
And no longer need to roam.
We feel with outstretched hands
And fingers pained and broken,
To feel just one reply
Reverb on lips when spoken.
We ache for one desire
To fill our chest, our lungs, with air and fire.
Moonlit Poetry 