All is Lost

Richard M. Ankers - Author

Deep, those wells
Of souls, they say.
But there is hope,
Isn’t there?
An angel bathes where
Waters, still,
Light shimmering
Where there is no light.
I fear consumption;
Step back and breathe,
But it is too late;
I am too late.
What was sheen
And glass
And conducive
Now tempest turning,
Spinning, churning.
There is no return to such realms,
As diluted pupils widen,
And suck all into darkness.
I am lost;
She is lost.
All is lost.

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