25 Years - Elway

The low-hung harvest moon paints a scarlet on my windowsill

The morning star in pale blue always seems to disappear

I’m tongue-tied and trivial when seeking the truth

I’m a small flame, but I will still wait

The filaments are burnt up in their glassy bulb’s volcanic black

The darkness ages, livid, lost in aspect to the sun

At daybreak the sunlight emblazons the truth

We are ruthless when we are restless

25 years I’ve been lost in rumination

Of friction and fear and old regrets that keep me straying

And I will run if I alter nothing but my angle to the sun

I will run and forever let the darkness be the memory

Of the hollow places I’ve been fleeing from

The last good things worth keeping melt away

But I will find my place

In the fray of their absence

And I won’t spend another breath on sighing

This fog into the cold

Tell the sun I’ll be waiting

For the winter to recant it’s invitation to the comfort of the graveyard

Darling I’m doing alright