Claustrophobia is not in places
But in bodies and in blank-souled faces
Hollow spirits, greedy hearts, empty eyes,
Stealing what I would give and leaving lies
'Til there is nothing but a gray-souled ghost
Of self, another victim of the lost.

And then Love, blue-eyed and full of Life
Bursts in, bringing joy and peculiar strife
To a heart against itself long reined tight:
Habit wars with Hope, checking headlong flight
Into a night of scintillating stars.