It's not really autumn out there.
But it sure as Hell ain't winter.
A Black Night,
Beyond the First White.
An empty space,
An in-between.
A night to light a candle,
Let the void devour,
Wait,
For another flame
To light in that Darkness, even though
You know it never will.
It's the waiting that makes you human.
(Even when you don't care
To be one.)
8 November 2009
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a comment
Note: only a member of this blog may post a comment.