The weary skies be disheartened, by dreary Time it be darkened,
on my weeping soul, cut under Time's gaunt wings, Pain prowled in seeping.
Amidst daunting days of December, my falling heart is burdened-
for amidst the broken-winged songbird my weeping heart be grieving
my Joy's corpse; buried for e'er.
Seasons wrought its blooming songbirds that rise across the fiery skies,
high above the supple sycamore did they hum their winsome song,
yet within songbirds' sweet bliss of their eyes, there rests and lies
the ash of the songbird I long and love with its sweet birdsong-
Thou I love, lost by Death's wave.
Mulled upon my dull eyes o'er Life's lake of serenity and lull,
there laid upon my wretched soul, a shadow as dull as burnt coal-
Dull, the last remnant of my dear songbird of Joy trapped in Time's tulle,
for down it fell in Despair's empty hole, as Death swallowed it whole-
there, I knew, all lost in graves.
Though the ember skies burst with a complexion of ice cold sombre
as the cruel veils of snow buried the blighted blossoms that prevail,
in my amber screams of despair and pain, there stood Joy in slumber.
Its lush trail lit my voice aglow, its lustrous wings made of hope yet frail.
Can I live with hope so frail?
Will the bright sun rise once more?
Or will this luminous spark,
grow once again limp and dark,
and succumb hopeless for e'er more?
YOU ARE READING
ꨄ 𝙻𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑ꨄ
PoetryLife and Death; Joy and Sorrow. They're just two wings to the same body.
