sitting on the void of the day

 

Sitting on the void of the day, your heavy truth

crushes the daffodils under its weight.

No more game of doubt can be played,

truth is all-blinding,

all-conquering,

sets you free.

So, free you are.

Sitting me, I don't hope the river waves

that were licking my toes and luring

me with promises of little,

of very little,

come back and splash me, accidentally,

anymore.

Words buzz around my head, like bees

annoying and selective

just sting on the days when the void calls,

heavy with truth,

crushing the daffodils under its weight.