Grief Is a Thief

Grief is a thief

you have urged

to take you away

but with your own

key locks you,

wet with tears,

inside your musty

woolen closet and

turns out the light.

Dark in your trap

shared with moths

you cry long past dry

and choke on all why.

When you know it's

time (and you will):

burst

the closet open

into a room,

burst

the room open

into a sky,

settle for no moons,

pray past all suns,

inhale from Cosmos.

Not earth are you

but the damp wick

of a future shining.

Strike your match

and light the way.

As Below, So Above

As Far Beyond As Here