Lost

Lost

Something precious wanders lost

In the shrouded interior castle

Or distant foggy landscapes.

It’s me.

On the way back from Dante’s lair

I drifted away, missed the drawbridge.

Now I am both seeker and sought,

It and not-it, not fully who.

I beseech the castle Lord,

Accept my white martyrdom,

Restore our connection, infuse me

With a drip line of your passion.

Make it a flood, find my veins

And hook me up. Without you

I need life support, if I can locate

Myself to save.