The nightfall comes, clouds the head,
scours the earth,
rouses widow’s dread.
Your feel the ashes swirling high,
choking the breath,
blinding the eyes.
Rolling thunder frightens all,
harkening doom
and the coming fall.
We stand with friends, watch the spire
of swirling smoke,
and searing fire.
The ground it falls beneath your feet,
dropping us down,
to infernal heat.
The wind whips like an angry god,
a pagan vengeance,
strikes the rod.
With burning welts and festering sores,
comes the hated day
of myth and lore.
All you love dies in the fray
for meager mortals,
it’s time to pay…
But storms are passing, we all know
the last days come,
the last days go.
Apocalypse and doom they may,
make the visit,
but never stay.
Darkness and the scary night,
are just heralds,
of morning light.
Past their moments comes a birth,
the sun returns,
and warms the Earth.
Dawn has come, we’ve all survived,
the end has ended,
let’s go outside!
-
Author:
David Welch (
Offline) - Published: October 27th, 2025 20:25
- Comment from author about the poem: Check out my books on Amazon! https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B008RP0672
- Category: Spiritual
- Views: 8
- Users favorite of this poem: Rev. Lord C.M. Bechard
Offline)
Comments2
A great message contained in this poem. We may often misinterpret or even anticipate things to be final, or worse than they turn out to be. They all end as some point and a new day begins. Lovely
What a way to put it! The cycle continues, whether we like it or not. Great choice of words.
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