Sunshine, though immeasurable,
Can be such a small thing,
When you live in the space
Between twilight and dawn.
In darkness, you come undone
A sweater unraveled
By the head of a nail
Not fully hammered in.
Just a small thread loosed
And the unfolding of time
Every created thing
Can return to chaos.
We all know the aching pull
Of that silent entropy,
That creeping destruction.
We see the death of a thing
As the great inevitable,
But rarely do we see
That all things come again.
The house that falls
Becomes the bricks
For the next construction.
The newly built home is
Stronger than the storms
That once breached the walls
And tore the peace asunder.
Sunshine, though immeasurable
Can be such a small thing.
But those little trickles of light
Are a promise given
By each day dawning.
About the Creator
Mack Devlin
Writer, educator, and follower of Christ. Passionate about social justice. Living with a disability has taught me that knowledge is strength.
We are curators of emotions, explorers of the human psyche, and custodians of the narrative.
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The Singer So Shy
She stood near the cold fireplace, watching the second-hand tick down to the hour. In another minute, the clock's bird would emerge and warble the hour. She reached up and touched the clock, tracing the gentle slope of the farmhouse roof, then trailing down the lilac strewn side, to the white fence framed dooryard. She wished she was there, where the air would smell of lilacs rather than smoke.
By Judah LoVato5 days ago in Fiction
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