I lay in the shroud of shadows
while the steady rain soaks my bones
the liquid becomes my eyes
the sound becomes my soul

I lay on a bed of last falls leaves
they crumble at the touch
but give a sense of comfort from the hard ground
and cling to me like dreams and wishes unfulfilled

I lay under the scant cover of this ancient tree
and watch for signs of sunrise in the cloud-locked sky
and whisper invocations of some deity unnamed

I lay in a shroud of shadows
waiting to see
what cannot be seen
waiting to feel what I have never felt
take this misery from my eye