Dusk

I caught the final rays of sunset,
Death of day, and let the swiftly
Growing gloom envelop me.
This is the life that I must lead.
A chosen course? Oh, what is
Chosen? Unknown forces are
Not will, and will itself is but a
Puppet, built and yanked about
By what has been, as hands behind
A screen. I dream of morning.
Even then, the gloom won't loose
Its grip on me. I saw the sunset,
Thought of dying, willing me away.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 79 times
Written on 2014-10-30 at 00:50

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