Behind the Sun

By Cliff Lake

 

Behind the Sun

 

I feel it sometimes.

Vast it is,

Wearing it’s cold as a cloak,

The shroud behind the Sun.

An abrogation of the glare we live in,

It’s voice is an echo of empty,

Loud, clear, unheard and still heeded,

It sings of unharmony.

It is unspeakably lonely,

If it has life at all,

Or is merely the imitation

Of an existence

That never was.

Its longing is the ache for affirmation

Its size alone should answer for that.

Still, it reaches for me

Under my dreams

Or in the unexpected moment

Between the TV ads.

Then the sonorous whisper reverberates,

A calling from a deep

I dare not imagine.

In those moments

I feel eons

Trembling at their meaning

And seeking always more.

How is it so nameless,

Why is it so familiar?

How am I to deal

With the shroud behind the Sun?

I dare not.

I must.

Somehow.

Somehow I must.

 

Cliff Lake 5/18/2023

Copyright © Clifford Lake 2023

Location: Dalton, MA, USA

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