|Photo by D. Munoz-Santos via Flickr|
Lost within bleak wastelands of our wanting,
And each one drunk on bitter wine of self
We stagger on.
With empty hands and hearts
We search alone in darkness,
While wind batters and ice bites,
We stumble over the trash heap
Of our desires.
But all the things that glittered
Have lost their shine
And we fall shattered in their midst,
Still grasping at the pieces.