within the solitude of the dreadful span
of the blackened and bowed sky
the deep withered grass bends in the moonless dark
quieting the cold and murmuring earth

hushing her into fitful sleep

the air is hard
and the wind lacerates the night
razor incisions left behind
in the icy flesh of obsidian hours

open wounds howl like wolves
on the trail of prey in flight

I hunger for you
under the restless stars

people have their god
               and
people have their no god
               but
neither has solid proof
                nor
the definitive answer
               only
what they truly believe in
                and
they’re so sure of themselves
               that
they’ll defend and protect their beliefs
                  if
any differences are shouted at them
                 and
they’ll hold and cradle their beliefs
               tightly
like a security blanket
                 and
they’ll preach their beliefs
                  to
any pair of ears they come across
                  it’s
the never-ending game
           straddling
the on-going centuries
                  if
you have god, go with god
                and
                  if
you have nothing, go with nothing
                 just
leave me the hell out of it:
your beliefs
      my beliefs
          his beliefs
             her beliefs
               their beliefs
                 were never a certainty.