mamo sonnet 3

it's echoes in the dark, and frozen hands,
and clinging mist that soaks through to the bone.
it's certainty i've walked these haunted lands
and knowing i've not always been alone.

i can't remember what i'm searching for;
somehow these dripping caves are all that's left.
i think i may have been here once before,
but don't remember feeling so bereft,

for once upon a time my name was called.
the voice that spoke it was a sound too dear,
but name and voice, forgotten in my fall,
are distant and may never reach me here.

so onward walk i through this endless night,
for letting go would never grant me light.