Is the Outer Dark Reflecting Our Inner Souls Again?

I don’t even know how to describe this.


The sun’s time to sleep

Earlier is nigh

Meanwhile at home,

My soul is dry.

I’ve had a share of days,

Bad were few

But in this time

The sun knew

How to capture my inner sense

Of disturb, and distrust.

And of depression,

To be sad I must

Of every fleeting thought

That ruffles me.

“Fie!” I say,

“The dark is just for sleep

To hibernate a while

Then awake

In glory, peace and a waning smile.”


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