No broom can sweep away the dust
Of your departure. Night’s granules
Like a swarm of locusts, have driven out
The Arabian carpet, that enchanted time,
Leaving me buffeted by hailstorms of doubt
And despair.
Black sunlight, granitic water
Flames encased in sheets of ice,
My heart can only read in the dark,
My footsteps are planted firmly on empty air,
My eyes, seeking answers, peer backward into my brains.
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