what is it like

to know yet to not feel
to do and to not think
tis' the strength that does not surface
yet
it succumbs to the emptiness
a forsaken touch
that leaves the heart frozen
numbed to the wondrous warmth
for far too long it has been
and done in this way
the mangled delusion of trust
for far too long
have the clouds obscured the sky
and then you sit and realise
why


why?

and yet, with the silence
gazes that do not meet
thoughts that do not comprehend
hearts that do not feel

consumed by the darkness, by deceit
it is then
that you remember
the unnerving truth of faith begotten
for which had never left
the sadness and sorrow
once bereft of dignity
it comes together as one

with faith
and hope

there is none