every land is empty
i wander here and there
remembering the other times
i travelled here alone
~ without you there’s no home
time is passing slowly
the fires are turned to ash
i seek new wood to burn for you
a flame to light the way
but you can’t see the beacons
you’re too far away
the birds still sing
the river flows
i know these trodden ways
~ wherever i may roam
without you there’s no home
i know that this house is waiting
i hear it in the room
i hear it the moment i enter
loud as the ocean breeze
it’s so thick i can almost touch it
but it’s only the sound of silence
emptiness in a sigh
gliding on absent feet
it makes the flames burn low in the grate
and the windows are empty eyes
i sit alone and gaze at the door
hoping that you will walk in
a cold empty box
wrapped in silver foiled paper
left outside in snow
The Dreaming Path 