Darker Side of Sunset

beauty found in grit

sun setting through the grates

 

The darker side of my shadow
walks with me in the night. 
The overcast of my shadow
does not vanish in daylight. 
The darker side does not subside
when nightfall turns toward dawn. 
It’s there with me invariably 
A test to will and strength. 
That which I must overcome,
lest it vanquish me
bequeathing my final remnants. 
It does so with such ease. 
A stronger space it yields. 
(The power that it wields) 
Those times when I succumb. 
A cipher and a secret terror. 
 
My darkest side, lay by my side within my darkest hour. 
The only companion that shares my space like logs fed to a lone fire. 
The scented embers center
concentrated batch,
fiery red-hot, yellow, blue 
borne from a simple match.  
 
Loss of control when I reach my darkest hour. 
Taking me as though I am sustenance —
it’s me that get’s devoured. 
I am the rose; deflowered. 
The darkness in my hour. 
It binges on my skin and it purges my whole existence. 
My feat, my battle, my war —
my ultimate resistance. 
 
Like the dirty grates I studied
oily, black, defiled.  
In the meanwhile
there lain in the distance, 
pure and clear as day
the clouds were giving way
to energy and light.
Hope takes flight. 
Again, it will be night, 
The darker side ignites. 
 
 
 
 
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About Maya

I like words like "labyrinthian," "kerfuffle," and "serendipitous" because they're mellifluous. I love poetry, pumpkin ales, sangria, long summer days, Fall foliage, going out of my way to step on crunchy leaves in October, live music, Jazz, Salsa dancing, theater, film (foreign and indie), the arts (myriad varieties), dance (in theory and practice) and any place where I can sit outdoors and take it all in.
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