Misplaced Light

A Poem that just would not leave me be.

Sovereign state of nature,

and its suffering fills up everything.

Old shadow returns

at twilight,

whimpering.

Through each phase of the moon,

A reflection

finds itself looking back

At

Warm old age,

and worthlessness,

and fractured odd speech

and all of it,

cobbled together for far too many years

for anyone or anything to notice it

until now.