Tale of Darkness

Perhaps the last poem of mine they will read for a long time. The finale of a project many years in the making. And onward we go into life’s next chapter..

In truth today a time has gone
through cold of night and heat of sun.
I wait in lull before the storm
when urchin eyes awake at dawn.
The creed of leaves grow scarlet bronze
and listless held for spring to come.
Be it this day a story’s end
now one more tale must then be penned.

So I’ll take it back to the start,
with the slow patter of my heart
the gaudy leaves started to fall.
To prosper, no fancy at all,
desistance comes, part one of three
in lieu of devotion to be.
Never fixed on which path to tread,
to follow those despondent lead.

This, the Wasteland of which I’ve spoken
is always art, if sometimes broken.
I’ve ran its streets in rain and snow
and come the summer, beat my ghosts.
Where I am roused and soar at times
should I wander and find the lines.
Tales of abjection and of snow,
fallen angels and stalwart stone.

I stared out train windows for miles,
searched for inspiration or smile.
Lay down with memories at night
they left with the creep in of light.
And by the chill of morning sunshine
hearts broke in the same way as mine.
Follow the buzzards in their flight
to where a splintered sweetheart cries.

And on this day let it be said
that I do not fear dream or death.
I fear their effect on only
just those who claim that they love me.
I’ve seen the world in coral tone
and been awed by the light that comes.
I failed my God one time before,
He gave more chances than I’m owed.

I know one day my star will blaze
amongst the other dark-lit tales.
But for today I’ve craft and life.
Not yet does it glimmer at night.
Never to crumble, nor to fail,
not to depart until my name
is known across every border
and my star shines on these waters.

Jordan Baker

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