shiva

with arms embracing destruction

catalyst for change has arrived once more

dreams are born out of the sorrow of darkness

and as before bare the light hidden within the chamber of the soul

three thirty AM

and I awake with no surprise at the time

I search for the bridge back into my dreams

and as I try sleep alludes me

with her trance I am finally

to a white world which brings forth the day.

The white world which is our permanent realm throughout these months of winter

my son asks me when the summer will come.

Are our hours to be judged upon the thoughts ruminated within time tinted white?

You do not want to speak and I cannot know your thoughts

so what else but your expressions am I to judge?

In the final hours

of the shortest day

joy seeps like water through a sieve

remaining is the lonely state

to which we are tied in birth and death

separable to all but ourselves.

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About binaryLady

Front-End Wiz and Full stack developer

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