Sunshine in Stairwells

Cascading.

Why the Sun would shine on stairwells
on maroon monsters ascending aimlessly,
only the angels singing in the clouds
would know.

I am glad to see that you can smile
if not at me, then at invisible thoughts
that I must not be destined to hear—
an end to fear?

I am glad nonetheless.

Therefore, I run some more. As I always have
when the thought of having my voice flow
from my diaphragm to your ears
disturb my already stormy dreams;

when the prospect of my works meeting
your eyes, not knowing that they may
elicit hurt and nightmare even
in innocence force me to silence;

when the inevitability of light meeting shadow
comes to me as it came before talks of darkness,
of witching hours,
of awful tales of false love,
of the pain caused by lost years...

I will keep on running
until you sleep and rise again
in your corner to the East.