Circle of Chairs

September 26th, 2007

Circle of Chairs

In a circle of a thousand empty, wooden chairs,
I sat alone
And weapt.
Two lamps cradle the darkness in their solemn palms for me.
I died to have still been alive,
Whilst leaving all my friends behind.
I played the ghost,
And nothing was dearer to me
Than the happiness of my most precious and closest loved ones.
A carriage awaited me and I looked forward
Only forward.
Twenty-two years forward,
never twenty-two years behind.
The lamplight dimming as if fragility had taught it to do so,
I died in a circle of empty chairs.
Not scared.
Not confident.
Not naked.

Leave a Reply

You must be logged in to post a comment.