Along the trail advances Dusk,
Arriving too soon.
Its shadows cast my tomorrow
In a flickering moon
Before fading to black.
A voice bellows out from sable nights,
Trust no more in unfailing light!
And renders a familiar path,
No pleasure from Twilight's sweet mystery
Again will I borrow
For shadows loom
Upon my sweeter, still, tomorrow!
Hope stolen from its common sphere
Accosts a new pledge,
Whether by Twilight Or Dusk
I know this,
Eventually darkness follows
To rob breath from bliss
And celebrates the charge into Night,
Sometimes with no goodbye, farewell, or final kiss.
And what good news has hope to share
With fists shaking in despair?
Shall palls of night my only comfort be?
What if, in the end, the here and now
Was all this path could offer me.
Faith shaken, yes—once, now twice
But even the trail to Dusk
Succumbs to He who is Wise
Pausing for prayers before giving Night way
And provides a place for healing there.
This bastion of prayer
Brings Night to its knees,
Dividing breath from mist
And hope from dreams
Provides powdery moon paths
For black and white dances
Even as this ravaging advances.
Faith may shake for a moment or two
Yet I am heir to truth
Where blackness is swallowed by light
And luminocity, infinite,
Where disease has no place,
And I find answers to my prayers.
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