Literature
The Dawn
Shifting colors of dark thoughts, one line and the mirror broke apart. My hands trembled, but I fear none at least so I thought. Could my heart be this weak, could I be undone, could there be no love? Some lost art was once known and worked, yet now what? I am alone in this space, cut and bloody is my arms and feet, so tears flow. All is as a dream where I know a prison stands, street after street some empty regime. Windows without light, a defeat has come to pass. Who would redeem this vestige of rotten minds, not I, never would this be my lot. Is this selfish? No, I alone cannot pull the world together reforging it whole. Why? The stone breaks and time wilts all, to weather storm and strife. The Lord left the throne, so I look up as a feather descends to the ground. I reach out with hope and know I will not doubt.
