poetry & things

Night and truth

In the evening comes the dim light, the swooping away of day,

the blue, gray clouds, the turbulent air of wild birds

small specs, black and disappearing.

After awhile only quiet,

and then a certain silence settles in

it moves like fog, alongside the moon

it comes cold, blanketing the soul

a depth of space unknown

a well of darkness, undiscovered

the losing of this day, this light

and in the long, lingering hours

dwelling in the dark caved places

touching the soul and flooding the heart

the crashing waves will come

to break one wildly apart.

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