living and breathing
and though it is me
I am not it, I am only
a remnant of Light
and the twilight of God,
bound by the limitation
of being, revealed as
nothing more than
to fade into the afterglow
of a life no longer wanted,
to settle into the stillness
and comfort of oblivion,
drifting aimlessly and endlessly
in the comfort of not being,
unaware of my awareness,
and blissful in the nothingness;
but twilight holds me captive,
and I must linger yet a while
between here and there.
This winter in its infancy
settles on me, the weight
of the cold reinforced by
the lengthening darkness.
I miss the warm summer
evenings, when twilight
would last forever, and
tomorrow was unwritten
and so far away, and I,
in my innocence and
the comfort of forever
knew nothing of today.
And soft is the light that fading warms us
in twilight’s glow as gentle night enfolds;
the storm now passed has offered solace thus,
and in its wake are moments we still hold.
In whispered verse we free the aching soul,
allow the spirit on the breath to fly,
and loose the heart from its now tragic role
to seek adventure in wilder skies.
But for the night no dawn would we espy,
or hold as such a gift those precious rays
that burn away our deepest pain with light
and grant us hope of love and renewed faith.
In fading light, take comfort in the dark,
for morning soon will see life again spark.
Another attempt at the sonnet, using Spencerian rhyme scheme; written with thoughts of a hurting friend in mind.