Posted on in Poems

The Light

The unmistakable yearning,

The sicken pinch,

The awful emptiness of reality setting in,

unable to go back, life moves on like a locomotive without brakes. 

Heading for eternity we can never go back, what’s done is done.

Memories fading like paint on a canvas, clinging to what was left of a fragile existence.

Unable to hold on we slip into eternity, ignorant and afraid of the unknown.

We pass through the darkness and return home into the light.

By Lucius Wilson

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