VII of cups ~

…yes, dear, i feel... no, rather sense your blazing energy,  
  stirring,  
  calling.  
   
  yes, i’m always here listening…  
 
i await your midnight visits;  
when my anguished heart, tears can  
 finally become still (i’m ever so patient);  
i suppose none have a choice now.  
and, i keep trying to decipher your mysterious riddles ~  
   
the same ones you relentlessly haunted my dreams with,  
whispering…weeks before:  
 the golden mirror fell from the wall,  
and the owl sang, outside my  
window in the cold, starless darkness…  
{mocking me}…  
weeks before callous Atropos stole you away.  
   
 ~ yes, dearest, you’re so very loved and sorely missed…  
i think you could perhaps hear our laments,  
 somewhere in the celestial ? ~  
    
don’t fret, mama lit a Yahrzeit candle  
   
   :: we worry you took a part of her with you ::  
    
and, i walk in silence, too numb…to make any noise...  
  even speak, and too fractured inside…  
            to…just…be...  
   
 i find…  
 find...  
   
  i…now drift in,  
          out of realms…  
    
amongst waning, opal moons ~  
slowly, shape-shift...  
   
    into a wraith.