A Divine Sadness

Tonight, I will hear shadows, creeping;
Crawling past, like wounded slugs;
I will hear when they begin to amp their pace
Till they become black blurs;
Streaks of a nightmare;
Stubborn demons trying to escape God.
I will hear them and I will cry.
I know what blessings they carry in their palms
When they pause mid-stride;
Offering,
Like cold, dreary statues beaten by teardrops.
I know what visions steam in their eyes;
Eyes white as fear,
When they stare
Like stars of the gleaming glum
Forged from the furnace of yesterday's dreams.
I know they will not pity my bent head,
Or my quivering soul;
All things go to naught, like questions.
All things come to naught, like answers.
Tonight, the reason they come is for love;
The oddity we can share inside a tear
And in the spasms of bubbling laughter;
The wound we can nurse with blades,
Or with the smoke of a shiny little blunt.
Sadly, tonight is too cold.
I can see vapors rising from the trees;
Dribbling, like the trail of burning things
To a sky made of mirrors.
No wonder when I peer the heavens for God,
I only see myself-- in a disarray of colors--
And this is when I truly die.