Heavy lifting is a burden
If we are stardust
Than our time to harvest is now
Or in a never ending morning
You jump into your glory
And form a story
Made from tired words
We drift like echoes from the woods
We are daring targets of timid darkness
Conscious that our nothingness is biased
So we rest in the finest linen
And cash on delivery is just how you like it
The dark night of the soul
Can also be a silent invocation
Or a subtle invitation
Aspiring you to wholeness