Beside me, the wolf has made its quietus
A companion unbidden, yet enduring in its presence
Do my whispers in the solitude not suffice for your ears?
To me, they are a balm, for you are my entirety
In the scant distractions that these truths unfurl
I find a solace, sparse yet profound
Upon rising, shadows cling to the periphery of my sight
A darkness not of the eye, but of the spirit, persistent and deep
It slumbers, then awakens without summons
Stirring the calm, unearthing the tempest within
With each silent interlude, a chasm expands
Distance measured not in miles, but in moments missed
I ponder the last embrace of sleep in a bed not my own
My solitude once a refuge, now whispers of complacency
There exists a realm, betwixt wakefulness and dream
Where peace transcends the confines of slumber
True sleep remains a stranger, elusive and fleeting
My consciousness adrift in the twilight of being and non-being
With each silent interlude, a chasm expands
Distance measured not in miles, but in moments missed
I ponder the last embrace of sleep in a bed not my own
My solitude once a refuge, now whispers of complacency
I ponder the last embrace of sleep in a bed not my own
My solitude once a refuge, now whispers of complacency
There, in the liminal light, truths seek refuge
Eluding the glare of day, yet too timid for the dark
These revelations, unready for my heart, demand an unguarded spirit
Yet the wolf at my side demands attention, persistent in its silence
I ponder the last embrace of sleep in a bed not my own
My solitude once a refuge, now whispers of complacency