In the Dark - Poetry
Strange can be,
The strangest of all.
A thing of taunting beauty,
To last eternal,
In the minds of the few.
A lost memory,
Of a time lost in space,
For the faith in mortality,
Can be deemed not well.
An unfair world,
With whispers of actions undone,
With no soul in between,
It was indeed a cruel place.
In the side,
There was none,
As was the case always,
Could be argued,
Could close that loop,
Anything but easily.
It was the dream that kept life,
To the candle in the strong winds.