Vacant.
An empty house.
Seldom glimpsed.
Unsuitable.
Ineligible for love.

I wonder... Have you
aged enough, upon grief,
came to love this matching heart?

She accepted
the crayon
and drew
a transparency
to step across
the mirror.

Living on
horizons
long forgotten,
she sprang from fire,
her love affair,
a tale of fairy.

The baobabs grew,
feeding on her,
shredded the glass.
A darker night
devoured the moon,
diluted her crayon.

Then came the day after.
She rose
and drew a crayon.
She accepted lucidity
feeding on transparency.
She took a step.

As walked with the devil accept no fear.
Moans of pain affected only by a cowards ear.

Valleys light lit the darkest hour.
Through sands of time became sour.

Tides always turn nevertheless.
For our prolonged hiatus for the best.

The ones known by many I give thanks.
To those few who walk to meet the planks.

Frame by frame pages are torn.
For those are no longer sworn.

Only acquired by many past tense hate.
As we build our bridge for future date.

He conquer sight Long lived by one tale.
See as he will, guided to see no fail.

As his course viewd by multiple eyes.
All known why, in history he lies.

-Joseph B Schneider