Flux of Life

 

 

 

The appalling towering walls of the night start to collapse,

 

 

 

when the first rays of the dawn have appeared,

 

 

 

challenging the formidable spooky winged clouds dominating the dark crimson sky,

 

 

 

and the murky black sea gradually has become less scary,

 

 

 

as the hidden submerged terror steadily fades away.

 

 

 

The foggy mist that has crept over the historic alleyways begins to evaporate.

 

 

 

The ancient fear that used to lurk in the dimly lighted passageways vanishes into thin air,

 

 

 

and the vicious demons on the street corners, who have now nowhere to hide, start to retreat.

 

 

 

When the light penetrates the old houses,

 

 

 

the ghosts who never feel tired of peeking through shattered windows start to fade.

 

 

 

The dancing phantoms on the tops of trees begin to fly away,

 

 

 

and the treetops begin to regain their pleasant appearance once again.

 

 

 

In deference to the newborn bright dawn, 

 

 

 

street light poles start to lose their spectral aspect,

 

 

 

 and stop generating their yellowish dreary light.

 

 

 

As the morning rises, the drearily dull sorrowful shadows overarching our hearts start to wane.

 

 

 

As the horizon begins to dress in its pink costume of pure bliss,

 

 

 

the lingering sadness dissolved in the murky muddy currents into our hearts,

 

 

 

start to turn into crystal clear streams of life.

 

 

 

The luminous flux of life that waters our resurrected hearts at the early hours of the morning every day.

 

 

 

Radiant flow of life, perpetually moving in the endless cycle of death and rebirth,

 

 

 

when the dreadful high walls of depressing night crumble,

 

 

 

and the Conqueror of darkness enters our hearts.