In this calm before the storm
In this lull before destruction
When red lights
They do silently scream
I know you are coming
When the moss
It does whisper
Of dreams
Of peace
That will no longer be
As roads
They are empty
Of dreams
That do falter
In their calming
Soothing
Unmindfullness
Of light
That does linger
In the realm of the night
On the edge of all you'll dismiss
For tomorrow
It changes
When you reckon the hours
When you count down the moments
That hope may persist
But you'll chop it to pieces
And wrench the foundations
Make all that is lively
Listless
Powerless
Milton doth greet us
On grounds of chaos
In rounds of distress
Just to imprint us
With his windy
Impertinence
His merciless
Greatness
Expressed
- Author: Eugene S. (Pseudonym) ( Offline)
- Published: October 14th, 2024 18:19
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 25
- Users favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy
Comments1
Why on earth they gave the storm a male moniker, I do not know. Should have had a female name. That aside, this is charmingly fitting and apropos, timely on too many fronts. Rendered to effect with a subtle poignancy and haunting on all sides, it's too perfect. Thank you for sharing.
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