Late Into The Night

Can you feel how much I miss you
this empty cold autumn night?
Can you feel my soul reaching
to reconnect with yours
across whatever distance,
and through whatever walls,
up and down steps of the dungeons
we’ve built about ourselves?
Do you still read my words,
do they matter any more,
or have I surpassed myself
and left you beyond the gates
we wove with words and actions
considered with such ambiguity?
Is there black and white to love?
Is any part of it clear cut?
Or is it clear and we the muddled
as we squirm about in comfort zones
afraid to take the sentries down
and dismantle the guard posts
of ourselves to let someone in
and show them around?
What is the grandeur
of well woven tapestries,
intricately laced dances,
or lazy summer days
when hidden from all
for fear of acknowledgment?
So here I sit alone
amid my own tapestries,
no audience to dance for.
Just the candlelight and I;
my mind emptied upon the page,
my soul stretched through time,
from memories into the present.
I’m thinking too much again
and the candle is burning down.