Echoes II

There is a helplessness
Before Fate
An inability to
Relate event to event
To perceive the one long
Chain of time
That is the mind's perception
From its birth to death to
Resurrection the
Grains of cause
Locked in its links
Rise at its doors.

I cannot rid the senses
Of you.  This daily grind
Is based on sliding sand
Of memory and decline.
And there you always are -
The one.  You sour
My mind.

I strive to understand
Your absence.
I wish you here
To give me purpose
To have a being to bear -
Touch, give, receive, heat enough
To live life's core. 

But here - a cold place
Trussed, frozen, where
Feeling is fixed, has solidified
The only sense is
Nuance of despair.
This cold corrosive.
These empty echoes.
This bitter air.
There is no hope here.

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