Feb 2012
uncurling, a yawn
wandering back from the black
unfurled toward dawn
breeze is dependent
on just a single breath drawn
negating oaths sworn
to lie in darkness
yet not let light become us
dark death leaves us torn
wandering back from the black
unfurled toward dawn
breeze is dependent
on just a single breath drawn
negating oaths sworn
to lie in darkness
yet not let light become us
dark death leaves us torn
to wake each day is not so much of a blessing, not so much of a curse, more, that once awoken you say "Here I am Day! Do your worst!"
