The outlook is blurred on this moving stage,
Some see meaning in every season,
The old lion bites the bars of his cage,
Hurting only himself for no reason.
Others see a futile struggle of pain,
Without hope of redemption or grace,
The burrowed creatures fear the pouring rain,
And run fast to find a safe hiding place.
Nothing good has ever been preserved,
The glorious dawn light fades each morning,
The dusk heralds unknown darkness deserved,
Beauty unseen is gone without warning.
This sad hallucination is not real,
Even a Mother’s Love will disappear,
Leaving nothing but moments that we steal,
And long hours gasping for air in fear.
But there is a moment in the darkness,
At its black heart the cyclone is at peace,
And a glimpse is given of happiness,
And a wondrous Joy that will never cease.
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Author:
David Wakeling (
Offline) - Published: July 8th, 2025 00:12
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 23
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Damaso
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Comments3
This poem gives me feelings of cycles of good and bad that we interpret from our own view trying to give meaning to chaos. Cynical it uses great metaphor.
(The old lion bites the bars of his cage, Hurting only himself for no reason.) What more clear illustration of useless and self destructive behavior attempting to free ourselves. It speaks of cycles of good and bad that come regardless of our efforts giving a sense of resignation. Happiness becomes an illusion and another great metaphor is used ( But there is a moment in the darkness, At its black heart the cyclone is at peace,) Again the knowledge that when things are calm it is inevitable that new wind and rain is coming. Very nicely worked this poem leaves a dark image and is a fave
Thank you so much for your indepth analysis.It is completely correct and is much appreciated.
As the storm dies down there is a space that feels tranquill and calm, I say that from experience. At that moment you can see a little hope but you know the next storm is on its way, enjoyed the read
Thank you so much compadre.You comments are always welcomed
You are very welcome
This poem is a haunting meditation on suffering, illusion, and the fragile hope that somehow persists through the cracks. It traverses the landscape of despair, but doesn’t stop there. Instead, it drills deep into darkness to discover a singular, radiant truth.
Yes you are correct amigo.Despair is a wooden floor that lets light through the cracks.Amazing critique.thank you so muc
Most welcome, amigo 🕊️🙏🏻
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