Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Hope

You are my lighthouse.
Your gentle column of illumination
Calls out to me
As I search for you.
A forest of paranoia engulfs me.
Hope,
Like a cure-filled syringe,
Injects itself;
Wanders through my veins.
A swirl of emotions
Perched on my shoulder
Whisper in my ear.
They collect in my mind
Like an assortment of genres
Arranged on a dusty bookshelf.
I wait for you to lead me home.

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