I cannot see the light as I stare into the night. I stretch out my hand and rest it on a prayer. It flutters beneath the failing strength of my belief. Bottled hope is sold within buildings of sand and stone. Beacons of guidance that shine with splendor… blinding the very ones that approach on bended knee. Look up fool and see the god you kneel before.
I ignore the praise that is freely given. It clatters upon the cobbled courtyard and bounces oddly like fool’s gold. Value washes away with the tide, I lament the need for sorrow at its passing. Still, I care not.
Each morning I see you. We look deeply into each other’s eyes… the same damn eyes. We struggle, we accept, and we struggle again. The intensity of our bond causes the glass to melt. It forms small puddles upon the floor that reflect different images of my inner struggle. I stomp on them, but with each victory I am rewarded with more awareness of my failure. I weep my soul from my eyes. It falls like liquid glass even as it struggles to keep a single fingertip upon my queevering eyelash.
I blink and another dream dies without a sound.