Far-gone

You have again gone into your den

From where only a faint light can touch you

Your lips are narcoleptic talking to people

You seemed to have been kissing the rocks

Your eyes are annoyed and spent gauging

At the falling sun in the horizon

Your run-down hands now resting in the peephole

Hands that’d write tales of days and nights

Push the zones of comfort into the unknown

Play the instrument humming the most comely tune

You have taken all the organs with you

But there is something in the air that even

Your absence couldn’t erase,

I know you cannot be far

You are now consumed by the moon

I witness in silence.