I grope blindly in the darkness.

 Pressure mounting beyond reason-

The wind quivers; quakes; it breaks the

Starkness that I loved this season.

The wind moans as I'm skipping stones.

I grope blindly in the darkness.

The last Lighthouse Keeper is dead-

Ships wreck themselves against the rocks.

With a pocket full of pebbles

I set forth, searching for giants.

I grope blindly in the darkness-

Windmills spinning, mocking, grinning.

Waltzing with my Grandmother's ghost,

Tripping on gravestones underfoot-

The wind whistling and rattling bones.

I grope blindly in the darkness.