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Dark night of the soul ( 14 Views)

written by : Galia

There is a dark night in my soul-
The sickle moon a hungry blade
that cannot feed from fallow field,
yet rounder grows ‘fore it would fade.

A shudder creeps across my core-
a shadow’s shapeless reverie,
that stretches far beyond the realms
of history or philosophy.

There is a dark night, but no rest,
for sleep evades me like the morn.
A fetus now, I wait my term,
and pray that soon I may be born.

Yet born I am, for were I not,
anticipation would replace
the sense of loss that humbles me,
that carves the lines upon my face.

Within me: muffled cries of grief-
The child I am still struggles hard
to break the bondage of the swathes
that once were comfort, now retard.

I search the night for stars… The sky
is darker than my writers’ ink
spilled on a page of fruitless words,
smudged with the tears that poets drink.

There is a dark night in my soul.
I yearn the dew on morning’s grass
that disappears like a mirage
whenever my thoughts that way pass

If truth is light, then surely day
dawns only once the dark has shrunk
into the spitting coffee pot
a deeper thirst desires drunk.

There is a dark night in my soul.
I stretch my limbs as if to wake:
Would morning come to break my fast,
or afterlife my soul to take?

Each passing breath becomes a ghost
that will return to dwell with me.
If wisdom took as partner youth
this haunting would now pleasure be.

The sickle climbs as if to reap,
then silently descends the sky,
(well driven by the unseen arm)
and disappears within my eye…

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