Silver linings,
Cold, blue days
Simple things
Amidst the greys.
Tiny ripples
Throwing light
In chaos triples
Waves turn white.
But all storms clear
The tide returns
A horizon is near
The new sun burns.
I was distracted by that light,
A place I’d painted quite serene
I was creature of the night
The sun’s a place I’d never been.
I’d not stopped swimming
Towards its glow
My eyes brimming
With the need to know.
I’d chased the sun
To steal its heat
But the light night spun
Could not be beat.
The moonrise is a subtle thing
It gentles is presence to naught
Like a small bird too shy to sing
Or a butterfly scared to be caught.
In one we burn
It's harsh to taste
Yet we yearn
To be encased.
I’ll choose night
When the waves are cold
And with each bite
I’ll feel teeth of old.
About the Creator
Obsidian Words
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