I drink all day
and then strike out
along that winding road,
where shadows flit
by leafy bough
and twilight waits
for no-one;
where failing light
births fickle fiends
who writhe and tempt
the absent mind.
In deepen wood
where mildew clings
to night’s cool breath,
a parting kiss
for seasons
long since flown.
Ryan Stone
This must have come from a deep dark space my friend. The second stanza made me feel you have been reading my mind’s description of my top 5 reasons why I don’t like to walk in the forest in the dark. yet, pain has to go somewhere. I hope the long journey has come to a good end.
This somehow reminded me of Robert Frost. So masterly in its execution. You have no idea Ryan how much I’m enjoying your words. A truly refreshing departure from your usual style. Not that your haikus are any less beautiful, my friend. But isn’t versality truly appealing?
And yes, I must also thank you for your comment up there where you’ve said the dark space as an imagined frame of mind. I’ve been trying to justify the cause of poets/writers (through my “Bane of being a poet”) as being able to produce work simply on the basis of imagination of maybe weaving an entire story out of a tiny shred of truth.
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