10/15 : Fragment 19

worn out from waiting & you are pedestal-ed by your absence.
In ignored sacrifices, they have worshiped you till exhaustion, generations-full.

Having not yet seen the possibilities of evil, but having known good.
Going mad, in bedfuls, riverfuls, fistfuls of longing.

This sun will never equate,
for we know all too well its December darkness.

They say there are lights that are northern,
A fire of works.

& after all seeking the other,
following, falling in and towards.

She says “ there’s gotta’ be more to this”
the ceaselessness of the sea.