I stand on the edge of darkness
as morning comes to take the night
and watch as new wonders arise from the dreams
of all who dared be greater
amongst these frail days.
From this place I see what needs seeing,
the struggles and fates untwined
the open spaces between heart and mind
where imagination lives and dies,
this place of my making
for having chosen unwisely.
I see the wonder in a child's eye
and understanding in an old man's heart.
I feel the yearning ever bright
in the soul of a forgotten slight,
and more than that I see what is hidden
deep within those with the darkest fright.
I see their fears alive
thrown at others with all their might.
This new morn brings toil and trouble,
it brings magic and untold stories,
narratives dark and bright,
but more than that it brings hope
that on this new day we find our way,
that suffering, loneliness and fear
be held always at bay.
But all too soon the day will end,
as night reclaims what light illuminated,
and we sit in ardor unrequited
to think and ponder of our failed plight.
Are we better for having lived
another day
the tide moving in the same old way?
The moon rises, the sun sets,
the season recedes,
and in this moment I lament
that you do not know me
and I do not know myself,
for I am not who you think I am,
nor am I who I might.
I am what you make me
all despite.
In this I am dying
none to remember
that once I was here in all my splendor,
unseen, unheard, and unimagined,
but only as a trouble encumbered
should my history surrender.
My gifts lost to witness blinded,
awash in inequity,
drowned in sorrow and pain.
In the shade of the silence of friends
lest they too be spited.
But tomorrow is another day,
a dawn of new endeavor
upon which I set my hopes
of living life beyond these shadows,
in warmth and peace enchanted.
A new day with fear for being
what I have become, decanted.
The light swallows the darkness,
I slip into the shadows,
a finger ripples the water
and then there are none the wiser.
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