Nighttime weeps as it passes away,
gives up its life to the newborn day.
No mourners stand on grassy knolls,
no flags are lowered, no bells toll.
Its death unnoticed, fades away
and leaves frozen tears on fields of hay,
Icy dew on cold hard grass,
all that's left of darkness past.
Of all the splendor that I've seen,
none can match this glistening,
and as the sun kills the night
my eyes are shot with laser light.
A million diamonds, mine for free.
That picture lasts an eternity.
But only fleeting is the sight
of frozen prism's fire light.
To soon the sun has stole the tears,
dried from the grass the tiny mirrors,
but the suns not here to stay
night ‘s reborn at the death of day.
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
In the forest, silently
I walk upon the moss and heaves.
Mist weaves its way through darkened trees,
waiting spring, bereft of leaves.
I pray for life, despite the freeze,
to appear from the trees.
Just some green, a budding head,
to prove that all within’s not dead.
Flitting quickly, little wrens,
from branch to ground and back again.
A black crow soars in frozen air.
It doesn’t know or doesn’t care.
Fog condenses, water drops.
On last autumn’s leaves I hear them stop.
Mist mutes the sound, dulls the light;
so hushed that I can hear the sights.
I’m like this forest in winter freeze,
full of life that none can see.
I hide my soul ‘neath towering limbs,
to just peek out and hide again.
The tears I cry so silently,
forms the mist that swirls in me.
It dims the light I have inside
from others who may wish to pry.
I hide my pain stoically.
Inside of me a raging sea
of fears I’ve not allowed to seek
an exit for I would seem too weak.
I’ll remain a forest quietly.
No one should ever fully see,
nor comprehend my majesty.
Can’t see the forest for trees.