Cassandra whispers to me of disaster and catastrophe:
“Harden your heart, o wanderer
the road is long, the horizon far
no surcease of sorrow shall come to succor thee,
no hope of rescue, of salvation, of love
through the grey desert thou shalt tread
alone, forsaken, unlooked for, unwanted, unmissed.”

Like dry gritted sand upon my parched tongue
like shards of glass down my thirst-swollen throat
beyond bitterness, beyond pain, this emptiness
knowing the truth behind her words.

I grasp at wisps of dreams, like dust-motes glittering in the sunrise
fairy dust and sparkles,
but you cannot eat wishes
and you cannot drink hope

Cassandra need not warn me
of this dreaded path that is my own
descried by prophecy, and wrought by doom
years I have followed it, winding this way and that
through the unforgiving wilderness
though mirages have led me astray
and once or twice, I’ve mistaken the wind
for a loving voice calling out to me
but the silence and the emptiness
is all that has ever been real
I, who will never again know
the warm embrace of true love
damned to walk this blasted road
alone

I go with regret
this damnable weariness seeps into my bones
I bear my burden up once more
letting hope recede again into the distant sky
happiness is not mine to win, I suppose
and her heart was never for me to seek
I gaze upon the distant horizon
my wounded heart trembling
knowing that after all this time
this wound will never heal