What do you do when blackened grief abounds,
and permeates all things in every way,
as eyes search none but what's beneath the ground?

When molten anguish tastes like pepper grounds,
my tongue a marble-black ashtray,
what do you do when blackened grief abounds?

My days, spent listening for missing sounds,
grow grey, in search for voice that's gone away,
as eyes seek none but what's beneath the ground.

My nights, spent wide awake, are often bound
to one fallen asleep a different way.
What do you do when blackened grief abounds,

yet he, whom my heart seeks cannot be found,
while words of love, pent up, I cannot say,
as eyes seek none but what's beneath the ground?

I hope the universe we share is round,
that paths will cross, again he'll come my way.
What do you do when blackened grief abounds,
as eyes search none but what's beneath the ground?

(C)2008, Christos Rigakos