Empty Air

I stay suspended
Fingertip grip
Scrabbling for purchase
A maintenance of form
Nothing more or less
Than retribution
Than the tinkling of brass
In a silent season
These thoughts grow cold
Germinating no more
Left to time’s decay
In the absence of feeling
Being left behind
By those who mattered most
When anything mattered
When everyone counted
For something
So my feet kick out
Cramped and shuddering
Trying to scramble up
But finding no toeholds
No chance at redemption
Nothing but consequence
And miles of empty air
Waiting for an embrace
No prayers on my lips
Nothing to ease the pain
Eyes clamped tightly shut
I finally let go
And hope that I can fly.