a heart too open

     By Christopher Bowman

The witching hour has past
....as twilight resigns itself to a blanket of night
he listens to the silent halls echo
with the emptiness of understanding
for words crafted from soul sinew
reaching out in quiet longing
for softly spoken words of acceptance
the poet bleeds his words out into a world
knowing futility rewards itself with final slumber
accepted as payment in full measure
for a heart to open...