The Light

A poem written at dawn

The light will take a while To appear behind the curtains A shield against reality and logic Swift motions toward a premonition And a richness of the mind

The light is promised to emerge Behind closed doors And hidden forest trails Of mossy rocks and contemplative trees As the last swallows fly away

The light was never meant to make it here The seductive dance of the curtains And the gentle autumn breeze Summon the Fates in the room A countdown that stops for none

What is the nature of the light If not a mere illusion The wisdom of the Fates is lost The last swallow fell to the ground And a new aeon has just begun

This poem was inspired by the prompt of Gustave Deresse (˙ᗡ˙𝐖 'ɥʇıƃƃı𝐳ɥɔʇı𝐌) “Forgotten Light” which can be found here.