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Sweet sun beams that grace the morning gently Turn sick with age as the afternoon floats eerily in All the promises of the day; made in its hasty youth Fade into the ****** orange of death at sunset When the cool and regal night is born Every move is measured by a clock that’s on the wall By the way the ocean moves; how the stars align Or by all the days that waste and die in vain for me When I do not love the light enough to live in it And the grey pours in on suffocating clouds The rain tumbles down, drenching earth with acid judgment Proving that all god’s are indeed jealous god’s Even the soft and tender deities we have created The goddesses of the earth; the gentle and convenient god’s Still empty out the buckets of their wrath upon us But the ticks keeping ticking to answer the tocks No day is ever safe from that inevitable cloak that is night   Day after day is easy to ignore until it has stretched and become years Quietly, passively trudging into the sparkling horizon Wandering away unnoticed; hidden by the brilliance of the setting sun
0
May 7, 2012
May 7, 2012 at 5:08 PM UTC
The Day
Sweet sun beams that grace the morning gently Turn sick with age as the afternoon floats eerily in All the promises of the day; made in its hasty youth Fade into the ****** orange of death at sunset When the cool and regal night is born Every move is measured by a clock that’s on the wall By the way the ocean moves; how the stars align Or by all the days that waste and die in vain for me When I do not love the light enough to live in it And the grey pours in on suffocating clouds The rain tumbles down, drenching earth with acid judgment Proving that all god’s are indeed jealous god’s Even the soft and tender deities we have created The goddesses of the earth; the gentle and convenient god’s Still empty out the buckets of their wrath upon us But the ticks keeping ticking to answer the tocks No day is ever safe from that inevitable cloak that is night   Day after day is easy to ignore until it has stretched and become years Quietly, passively trudging into the sparkling horizon Wandering away unnoticed; hidden by the brilliance of the setting sun
emily-grace
Written by
American
May 7, 2012
May 7, 2012 at 5:08 PM UTC
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