The last hike before dusk

It was the echo which never came, the awkward silence shouted from the mountaintop, the unfulfilled expectation broken on crested hills and rocky fords; unspoken words.
It was the lighthouse, proud and steadfast, shining blindly into the night, not knowing that no ships would come that eve, or the next, or ever again; unfounded optimism.
It was a man with the broken back which wasn’t so broken, who might have limped to safety if he had the good sense to get up and get over his silly fantasies; waking dreams.

But, he day-dreamed all day, thinking himself to be awake
In the dirt he stayed, believing he would be saved.
He let sleep invade consciousness, let himself be fooled,
Naïvely clinging to hope,


And hoping only for you….


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