Light and shadow, joy and pain,
Temporary is all gain;
Long the journey, short the stay,
Exits, choices, gone astray
Rain and sunshine, heat and frost,
Where we’ve been, and what we’ve lost;
Longing gently, shorting stock,
Extricated from the clock
There’s a lighthouse in the distance,
There’s a beacon we can’t miss;
There is hope before tomorrow,
There’s an end to all of this
One day, then, the legs are failing,
Too much time, and many leagues;
Free to be, but motion lacking,
For a combat sans fatigues
Oh, how gray the burden cloudy,
Oh, how close the burning tears;
Fanciful, the phantom ferry,
Fathomless the sea of fears
There’s a lighthouse in the distance,
There’s a beacon we can’t miss;
There is hope before tomorrow,
There’s an end to all of this
There is hope before tomorrow,
There’s an end to all of this
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Published by Beleaguered Servant
Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.
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