drank the shadows

the night came fast, and so they drank the shadows;

then woke to light that stung and scratched their eyes.

a gallery now stripped of all its paintings,

uncluttered with the evidence that they

had ever changed or terraformed surroundings.

the day had poured into each crack and crevasse,

the floor seemed new again, as though to say

“you had your fill of dark, the spring is coming:

come feel the possibilities and go.”

but they no longer heeded to the light,

but lingered just to taste the last few dregs

Author: Owen Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

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