It’s the start of National Poetry Writing Month. Here’s my first poem
Left behind, the light that was. Before us night, in warmth’s embrace. No soothing hand to cool our brow, No cooing whisper to still our sorrows, Yet in that night lie wistful wraiths Seeking light they will not find. Let not the dreams of prophets stir your slumbers peace though storms erupt. In solace whole will self be true And lead to sleep through cosmos’ ages If in some far and distant visage, You should wake to walk in light Remember night’s blissful kiss Fear not the light, for it will pass.
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