October Diaries: Hands

October 16,

A loveless sense of regret

for time squandered and spent.

A fragmented, fractured mirror

for shattered, suffered hero.

Bereaving melodies sing

soothing songs of fading.

A pity given from us,

a flame of love without lust.

But spark the candle to torch;

a hunger's conflagration,

our shadow's fixation

to follow without remorse.

Our paths are darkened roads,

our hand's the candle, the torch.

Stumble in self-satisfying tripping,

or onward, fearless of slipping.