It is not near

my hand reaches blindly outward

i stumbled yet i search

for him who belongs to me

why must the dear things

be grasped away

i search and search

but i am yet to find

fingertips yearning to scrape the surface

feel the soft, cold touch

i yearn and i cry

i pry at every closed wound

why am i never the one

when will he finally reach back

will the time come

for me to find the dearest

who is meant for me

or will i be cursed to follow the empty path

with warm hand clutched at my side

i hope to stay strong

through out this staggered course

maybe my voice will not die away

the light still shines above my hanging head

he may yet reach back

all is not lost until he chooses

hands stretching to him

i can only hope

the light is brightest on me