Darkness overrides the midnight moon
a wind of gusty
night blowing;
the despair over
the mid-life of
a rolling emotion.
Future cycles behind
those mountains past –
when a freshness of
hope crawls in.
A query of the mind:
where is that hope of
longing that flows
along with the watery starlit
eyes? when
only darkness
covers the pit of despair in
fields and fields
of red poppy seeds.
A holding of the past
posts leaves of words
to despair –
the hope of singling
is far too great…
bring and guide the trail
of hope towards
darkness that exceedingly
keeps leaves of words
locked in a past…
all the meanwhile
hope is such a bright
and elegant word world…
…when future rolls
in behind those mountains –
gathering of courage will allow
tear stained leaves of words
to be guided
to a light of true inner hope.
