UNSOLVED: The Lamp is Steady. — A Requiem for The Undone & The Unsolved

The wick burns low, the glass is clean, 

A thousand miles of gray-green sheen
They unravel out beneath the beam 
That 
sweeps, sweeps, sweeps across the dark unseen. 
My lamp is steady. Nothing sways.
 I mark the blank space,
I count the days.
Across the worn oak floor she sits, 
Where once we laughed, laughed, laughed in joyful fits— 
No shroud of mist, no chain she drags, No gaping wound, no fearful pits
Within her eyes. She wears no guise 
Of horror meant to paralyze.
She simply is. A solid fact. The echo of what
 I 
try to deny. 
I don’t find comfort in this. Even for 
sweet, sweet 
memory’s sake.
 She doesn’t reach, she doesn’t speak, 
No motion does her shadow make.
She is the Chair that stands unfilled. 
The laughter that was forever stilled.
She is the half of my every meal.
 She is all my promises unfulfilled— 
And I— I tend the clockwork bright, the only thing that still is right—
How I strain against the ache— To wish for her to finally wake! 
To tear the air, to rattle chains, 
To offer one
 ..loud, BOOMING, fearful shake!
She takes no life; she brings no fear; 
she shows the life that’s flown. Utterly present, perfectly gone, 
She is the Reverie that lingers on.

Until the cycle spins anew, 
As I sit withdrawn.

——————–

Until I see you again.