For The Sunday Muse Prompt 93:
beneath the weight
of things unseen,
the vision has begun
to fade, the dream
in its colour,
now faint and grey,
Between the leaving
and the grieving
a messenger appears,
a key in its wings,
a gift of redemption
For The Sunday Muse Prompt #90.
The brilliance of
her luminescent eyes
lights the darkness
all around, twin pricks
of desire shining bright,
like stars, stark against
the tapestry of a night sky.
Fire and ice, both
together and apart
lie here, the wild
and the quiet as one.
For The Sunday Muse prompt #78. Image copyright Erik Johansson.
Stroke by stroke these
words, hewn by force, as though from
resistant rock are building a shelter,
each one a link to a thought and then
a world beating back the clouds which loom,
a slowly growing splash of colour
holding out against the ashen night without.
These words are calling the trees,
to stand in defiance against the howling wind
and the ground, now covered with frost, to cling
to life, through the night, because
tomorrow comes, and with beginning again.