Poetry

When the darkness fades short,

and the new day is born.

What will the morning bring you?

will you have feeling of spite? pity? love? and such.

Only you will unravel the answer,

every day until the end of time.

Not every day until the end of time,

But every day until the end of your time.

When your legacy, memory, and dust are all that is left behind.

 

Having our nights of sleep let us recollect energy,

to spend on a new while the stars in the sky still burn.

In time days are easily calculated by the rise and fall of Horus and Set, if so seen.

Time is of the essence or is it not?

The matter is in which you foresee your life,

it is not the matter of others for they have their own.

Unless your paths in the world connect

for then they will have the option to take responsibility.

 

-Cliff