A drop in the vastness
of a ocean storm,
a pebble in a desert torn,
a breeze in the mist of
a hurricane's wrath,
a silent scorn of a laugh,
a melody lost upon
a crowd of deaf ears,
a waterfall of unseen tears.
The demon of my mind,
twist at me in the late of this eve.
While the unraveller of what
might have been great
stirs what's left to retrieve.
Even the fear of my life slipping
sloppy and slowly by
wades heavily upon the brow
of a broken soul.
And yet…
They say there is
a yin and yang
to what we see,
a light to the darkness reprieve.
A sunrise to the sun setting,
and a crisp starry night
to the dark clouds
that pass out of sight.
A breath of joy,
with a teardrop of sorrow,
and a wish of hope
in our tomorrow.
The melody isn’t always lost
upon a deafened crowd,
but rather heard by the few
who still feel the child.
A spring to the winters darkening,
a soft warm breeze
in the stormy seas,
an oasis in the desert gloom,
and a joy in laughing while
watching the man of the moon.
Are we done when we fall,
or rather are we just beginning
after a long day's haul?