but I have this strange yearning, of disappointment, as if the light I saw coming, passed me by - as if I missed a door I should have clearly seen, as if, on the road the signpost I looked for pointed the other way what am I left with today except the empty spaces in my heart that God has not poured to fill and the soft pillow of spirit I hoped to rest my head on, turned out to be a hard bed: the consolation was grit: the comforting word unsaid: the lamp unlitnext poem