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
In the twilight I sat deceased
While the shadows filled with teeth
I was the child of the night, I was the corpse of dawn.
Nobody wanted change,
Therefore, hence I still remain
While their ignorance brews and their so-called wisdom stagnates.
They do not gather knowledge from,
Everywhere and everyone,
Here’s to a stale world that doesn’t change.
With the light switch out of reach I will remain.
Posted in General
Tagged change, child, corpse, dawn, ignorance, night, poem, poetry, remain, stagnate, twilight, wisdom, world
We are followed everyday by shadow,
By the long shadows of our future selves.
Time has no meaning in an endless flow,
Where shadows patiently wait for our tales,
When they will be told in a different light.
How is it we’re constantly in sunset?
In sunset about to pass into night.
Darkness,when we return to sleep so blessed.
All our cold shadows sit and wait and see,
When we arise, where we might float and go.
When life-blood loosens its grip and we’re free.
There’s a secret to the sunset I know:
“One wakes only in the twilight of day.”
Our shadows to us, have oft’ tried to say.
Posted in Life and death, Sonnets
Tagged arise, darkness, death, float, life, night, poetry, secret, shadow, sleep, sonnet, sunset, time, twilight
In an end unto our own
Tells not the knell for whom to toll
When endangered, runs from home
One forgets to secure the soul.
Up all hours, a sleepless night,
No rest until dawn, none till twilight.
There is none to be found, why seek?
It is as unreachable as the moons keep.
The ship that is sleep brings no rest
Though it ferries you to dawn,
The waves it rides, reveal at their crest,
You’ve been stationary in this ocean all along.
Posted in From the shadows
Tagged crest, dawn, Ferry, ocean, poetry, rest, ship, sleep, sleepless, soul, twilight, wave
A single tear from her soul only
Comes softly with the words “Just hold me”.
That cold summer, drifting, lonely.
I don’t remember what it was that came before.
Preceeding the darkened night,
Being a requiem to a hopeful twilight,
An angels song; a bewitching blight,
Does nothing to lift her from the floor.
There is a silence after her song.
There is the light before the dawn!
There is the hope that she’s forgotten!
These are the dreams that once were trodden.
She survives because she endures.
Now of one thing she’s sure:
Her hopes and dreams are worth the gain,
Worth the work, and all the pain.
She sees darkness itself is to blame,
Her souls tear, an angels song, the same.
There are those so foolish as to cling to rust,
The impermanence of being, and the certainty of dust.
A bright light now fading, still dimmer, now dead.
“Is there no hope for the living before their end?” it was said.
Our dreams fade like so many days at twilight,
So too our bodies before long can’t fight,
And then we fall, before time, weakened prey.
Our only hope is peace after the frey.
Where guaranteed is our residence in eternity.
Though how we enter it is on us entirely.
Calling for the moon expecting light,
Waiting for a sign before the shadows have fallen.
There comes no brightness only night,
To this small world that’s walled in.
Between its branches, the towering trees afford,
A narrow view of glowing clouds,
That seemingly cast an air of discord
On those who linger beneath the foliage; the blackened shroud.
I will continue on. I feel such cold.
Another day within this arboreal labyrinth lost.
I know the way, I’m no longer young, now old.
Many times before and many times the cost,
I could have escaped long ago, and should have.
The minutes here appear so shallow.
And though the path was mine, it was fates’ to craft.
What I’ve learned has made my time here far from hollow.
Having pushed onward through twilight and holding onto seeing dawn,
I regret not the dusk through which I’ve come so far along.
Posted in On A Positive Note
Tagged brightness, cost, dawn, dusk, labyrinth, minutes, Moon, old, poetry, time, trees, twilight