Comfort's Refuge

Comfort's Refuge

I came into being in the morning.

Not one filled with light,
but the dark one that you wake to-
disoriented and stunted,
one's that fumble you into corridors.

The rays did not fill the halls,
nor light on any banister:
a holding
down the deep and perilous stairs.

The morning did not creep,
for it could head no further,
for time cannot be measured,
in the absence of it's source.

The sun did not preceive me;
being hidden beyond such ridge.
It did not ever know,
what strangeness it did miss.

But none the less it misses me,
ever more, the same-
Knowing somehow that something
is missing from the world.

It knows, and it tries to follow,
and it tries, and it succeeds,
for time- I wronged- is stronger,
than I first precieved.

I tried to run from it-
not as a child,
but in youth
remembering old ways

But now the paths curve backwards,
and I can't remember
the way home:
up and out the stairs.

They've changed as I have,
and have risen higher than I stepped down,
and I feel trapped,
longing for seconds, new moments.

And the mulling of time,
holds me down
in my basement,
the place I sought my refuge.

And others look for me,
time giggling in the corner beside me,
hear the footsteps above me,
my face more afraid than times.

He just smiles at me.
He- laughing in the dark,
knowing they look for him,
not me.

-Matthew Koutzun