When the Dark Comes

When it’s 3 AM and the bad moon rises; lunacy.
When darkness and disappointment rip the soul.
When tears no longer wash away the pain.
When anger blots mind with spilled-ink thoughts.

When fear grows tall in cornrows of dismay.
When silence echoes with loss and cost.
When life’s hollows capture rage and regret.
When bone ache of could haves, should haves, weigh heavy.

When angels hide and demons call.
When sorrow seems the guiding star.
When unspoke pleas on deaf ears fall.
When good deeds seem unseen; each misstep marked.

When luck sours; curdled dreams gone; drained.
When words fail; brightness tarnished brass.
When age brings wear and weariness.
When change whips flesh from back; submission.

Branches move in the wind; look!
On the horizon a storm brews.

When love’s a dead ember; coals gone to charcoal.
When hope tastes like ashes and dust.
When you stand alone in the crowd.
When blank faces don’t look back; eyes avoid.

When reaching hands grasp nothing.
When longing overtakes sense and senses.
When empty arms make a cold vacuum.
When heart breaks on lonely shores; beauty lost.

The storm comes.
Winds blow; boughs break.
Lightning cracks; rains come.

The storm passes.
Air cools; breeze blows.
Day dawns; light comes.

Moon Spirits, 4/5
Lisa Unterbrink

About Wyrd Smythe

The canonical fool on the hill watching the sunset and the rotation of the planet and thinking what he imagines are large thoughts. View all posts by Wyrd Smythe

4 responses to “When the Dark Comes

  • It's only P!

    Beautiful and heavy. I hope you’ll cheer up soon!

    • Wyrd Smythe

      Thank you!

      There actually was a storm that blew through last night, and I love storms, so it cheered me up immensely. Plus I’d put on my favorite favorites playlist on my iPod, and music doth sooth.

      Usually takes a night’s sleep to reset the brain chemistry when it goes dark on me like that, but the storm and the music did the trick this time.

  • Wyrd Smythe

    One thing I learned over the years is that when the dark comes there is always a morning. One just has to weather the storm.

  • Lonely Lament | Logos con carne

    […] But over the years, before I fully internalized this, there were times of longing, doubt, regret, and angst. Sometimes I vented on paper and later found the words expressed something I didn’t want to just toss. [Sometimes I got a good blog post out of it.] […]

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