passing

Folder: 
turning points

when a passing had occured

and night became the day

the solitude which was assured

roamed lonesomely away

all the mighty of their will

and all the weak that were

sat idly waiting up until

the break of day had stirred

on that hour passing through

when light should pierce the dark

stood resplendent on the dew

the sun's inerrant mark

better is not always change

nor same always the better

how expressly, vainly strange

that both should serve in fetters

for without aid of yesterday

never would come tomorrow

which timely came without delay

to end the twilight's sorrow

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is the first poem I've written in a long time. Perhaps that is a sign that my heart is healing?

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