XVIII

I came such a long way past the city gates

over the insomniac's bridge rested in the port of fireflies.

I journeyed sunstruck hallucinating trailing the malfunction of my heart

slept in a convent full of ravens woke in longing.

I stumbled through a forest darker than a philosopher's madness

each leaf was a white lung I blackened with poems.

I found you at the doorstep hands full of autumn

I'm done I've no more tears and no more songs.