Poetry – Dying Light

Dying Light

It’s all darkness in the end,

said that old man by the dying light,

of the day the campfire flickered,

I felt the death of night;

why does the flame burn,

if the result is ash?

Why does the mind turn,

to the thoughts of black?

Cold, Cold we say and light a fire, but the heat becomes smoke,

Old, Old we think as we grow,

We bloom, we wither, we sleep, we choke;

Our only cover is the black,

Past the dying light of the flames,

That flicker once bright, can’t cackle a name;

Cold, Old, is the dark in the end,

But without ember lit we see the darkness within;

If we’re at piece with the coal so dark of the night,

Take a breath of the smoke of that last dying light;

Our light is dark and our dark is light,

Spoke that old man by the last dying light

Published by Chad Thunder Cock

Chad thundercock is an alpha male with big dick energy. He's the coolest guy you'll ever meet.

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