Depression - 1. abyss

the winter’s sky at midnight is a terrible thing

black as the ink that spills from my pen

abysmal in its depths like a black hole

a whirlpool of darkness

sucking from me all that is light

the winter stars have a cold and lifeless beauty

cutting like diamonds through the black

never illuminating, never giving relief

only pointing out the darkness

teasing me with what I cannot have

both reveal how small and insignificant

one single drop of ink must be

in a sea of black that has no shore

unnoticed, unrecognized, ignored

even when cast violently into its midst

both mock me, casting me into the void

of fear and anxiety that surrounds my soul

showing me the infinite stretching

of a universe without beginning or end

offering no hope of rest

neither proffers a promise of peace

no sense of safety surrounds me

leaving me to reach out desperately

to find no hand there to grasp mine

as I fall from the earth into the sky