Follow Me.

I am suspicious of sunlight
and of blue skies,
without any storm clouds
hovering by.
I do not trust the Winter
without any snow—
or frost that bites thumbtacks
at the end of my toes.
I am blistered by moonlight
as the fog rolls in—
and the last kiss I give will be
wiped from her chin.
I am forgotten by the ages—
and swept between cracks in the floor.
I am ushered to the hallway—
and locked between doors.
I am falling to pieces
and all the King’s men
are laughing and shouting,
“Punish him!”
I am blood bursting out
from the wound on His side—
I am drying on the rim
of a cup,
from which millions of people
have drunk.
I am the fault in the glacier
that sinks
New York City beneath.
I am lost to the ages—
I am the fallen figment of man.
Follow me to the end of my plan.
Follow me to where I began;
The solitude of a child when it rains;
The silence in footprints on a beach;
The holy places that will never know your feet;
The blackness that your mind allows to creep.
Follow me to where I take my last breath—
between notes at the end of my song.

written on 02/21/2010 by: Matt Kane