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Forlorn is the Light

Poetry By: willetgrome

A commentary on hope.

Submitted:Oct 13, 2012    Reads: 53    Comments: 11    Likes: 12   

The hopeful remains of a midnight pyre,

stave the darkness,

forfend the fright,

of a black and soundless obscurity wavering at the fringes of a faint and fading light.

Heartful breast,

an embers glow,

fights the death of sight,

fights with waving streaks of bright,

the shadows, on their long and twisted fingers

bring nihility,

slinking on the forest floor,

reaching to snuff one flame living in the presence of nothingness,

denying the weight of eternity

with the whims that dreams inspire,

inasmuch as the capricious flame does wander.

A singular entity of blackness creation,

creeps at the edges where the vibrant sphere evokes dominion.

Every crackle, every spark the fire issues,

illumination counters and bays the shadow demons,

which relent; a swift and hideous repulse;

the creature ghastly grimaces.

A wind carries sharply its message, a hienous shriek

and attacks with breathful whispers the fires waning fleet,

of travelling orbs,

wishing upwards,

tendering their tiny hopes to a Plutonian night

it did hungrily consume.

The potent source ever failing,

the vital sphere cut down in twane;

two fangs of darkness strangled the light in the mouth of a great and sightless serpent;

and when the last twinge of flame expires,

and the final sulking ember vainly falters;

night comes to gravely settle,

as surety consigns, to die,

these forlorn hopes aborning.



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