At the end of the day

At the end of the day,

When skies no longer burn bright,

At the last bird's call,

As we plunge into the night,

We cower and hide,

Behind walls and fires,

Hoping we'll be protected,

By towers and spires.

And we ask ourselves:

"Will this ever end?

How dark can it get?

Do we even comprehend

What this means for us,

For the future of all?

How can we live such a life

As even shadows pall?"

For it feels eternal,

Like our gloom shall never

Again rise from us,

And we shall hurt forever.

Yet as it always must,

Time moves ever on,

And when all feels lost,

The darkness shall be gone.

Brightness and vibrancy,

Return as they do,

Each morning ascends,

The sun never falls through.

Yet again as it wanes,

And the birds still once more,

We're fools in our fear,

And experience we ignore.