Lost Child

The boy who lost everything
And no one came for him,
But the wolves and the horrors
And the tears that never ceased;
He pines for the sun and the moon,
Who hover in faraway galaxies;
Their tears formed rivers
In uninhabited worlds,
Where the wind whispers
Songs of longing
And the ghosts sip
From the gossamer waters,
Of the channels made
From endless dreams.
Broken like shards
Of crystal angels.
And he floats in these
Shadowlands,
Yearning for a pleasant shelter,
And his hands grasp at
Nothingness;
Vacuums of doubt and fear
Stare where his heart resides,
Breathing clouds of silver light.
Spinning in the dark like
Spectral horses
Riding into night; searching
For the pieces of his soul,
Scattered in the wind
Of a skyless blight.