He must reach up to what he can’t below.
A solemn song the twilight will now sing.
Into dark depths, winding paths to follow.
What good there can the nighttime to him bring?
An age of waiting on the ocean floor,
Patience for questions that delay answers.
Inhabited by his greatest fears; more
Than a passing phobia or cancer.
One wonders if there’s breath under water,
He has been drifting down there for so long.
His arms, can he bring himself to bother?
Perhaps. He’ll soon find that his arms are strong.
In swimming towards the surface he will find,
Darkness and light, both, are repaid in kind.
Posted in Rise Above, Sonnets
Tagged arm, dark, depths, fear, find, light, phobia, poem, poetry, reach, sonnet, strong, surface, swim, swimming, twilight, water
I stand before the
Monolith. I cannot be
Measured against it.
One or two forward,
Can’t move as far as others,
And become the best.
He speaks to the darkness a question,
The echos repeat it back
Before they give an answer.
Though he is most certainly alone,
He searches for the source in the dark
How can the echo speak of wisdom?
He hears the answer again.
Now he knows
The answer was his all along.
His answer his own
He finds his home
In the dark.
The daylight will find him soon.
From this truth he won’t depart.
A shadow holds her back,
One that she held before.
No one can see the stains
Those cold hands leave behind,
But the mirror tells no lies.
At least that’s what she believes.
And at the end of the day
It’s her own faith
That she calls home.
If her reflection tells her anything,
It’s: “Sing no more.”
But at night outside her room
There’s a song I’ve never heard before.
Posted in Rise Above
Tagged day, faith, hand, mirror, night, poem, poetry, reflection, room, shadow, song, stain
A form on the water
They no longer know.
It is capable of anything.
They say the flotsam is in the way,
The reflection is distorted,
By a shimmer on the surface.
On the shore they’ll find no purpose,
One must jump in.
Waiting for the image to become still and clear,
Never realizing the image was a reflection of who they were before.
Posted in Rise Above
Tagged clear, expire, flotsam, form, image, poem, poetry, reflection, shimmer, shore, water
Against the wind, the oncoming storm.
In place waiting
for the rains to pass.
She knows what lies beyond,
The eye of the storm.
She is not fooled by a false calm.