I hear crickets, cars, a gecko,
Drowned out,
East, west, south, north,
By calls of light, of promise,
Of answers, of guidance.
Conversations, a mosquito beside my ear, a dog,
Lost in the midst of salvation.

I hear the calls,
But my back is cold,
Warped by fibrous waves.
The light my eyes see is distant,
Fire waned by time.
In their directionless fury, my guidance awaits,

I will find what I want, eventually,
Whatever it may be,
Once the answers, freely given,
Whenever that may be.
The fire might not burn forever,
But it will certainly outlast you, and me.

I hear the calls,
Recede inward, one by one.
I pray I will hear my answers now,
In prostration to the silent sky,
Drowned out,
By crickets, cars, a gecko.