A Lamp Lit
Jake IsaacsonThe fisherman´s wife would light a lamp,
And pace the widow’s walk
Hoping for her husband´s safe return
From the unforgiving sea.
When you left, I lit my lamp
And weaved at logic’s loom
As my heart bled
Into the carefully woven tapestry.
Your occasional words
Are unexpected squalls
That unravel the threads of my illusions
Into snarled disarray.
Yet still I weave by the dimming light
Theories spun from tangled threads
Hoping for answers
From an unforgiving sea.
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