The dark brings the solstice

In terms of equating

Something innate

As much the same

As sacrificing one’s pain

Recollecting messages from above

Never comes from pleasure

But in much measure

Is the reason

Im afforded appeasement

You think your power is great

Let me tell you

In such a maze as these days

Creates

Such time is met

In bed

On the other side

Of what content is

So much comes to mind

In what is greater than I

I hope you lose this

As faith finds you

In new attire

From a place much higher

Resembling a taste that cures

All projects

This I now marked as

What was once

Complacent

Now seems adjacent

To a fact of rhyming

And skimming

I say much comes in an art

Same as dying

The dark brings as much glory

As the light

Without what blares

How do we dare

Counter what exceeds

To meet our needs

This is why I talk to God.


Posted by in Poetry