Waking Up

Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.

—Robert Frost

As of now
it’s getting late.
With the night
darkness does create
ebbed by all
looking to degenerate.

To sleep but a wink
is just a bit of imagery
while my eyes they blink
subtle hints of symmetry.

My mind it dreams
as it always has
widened awake
til left whereas
by my heart’s last ache.

It is in this pitch black beauty
I know I am blessed
but to see the sun
I must give it my best.
Then she came and I was left
stunned by her symphony.

Yet I see it still
stuck to the simplicity
with each lance of light
sifting through songs of sympathy
sung by a morning bright.

And those church bells they ring
singing me to sleep
while through my window
the light it slowly seeps
with an inspiration
spilled from a darkness deep—
lit by love’s jubilation.

So for those who wish to sing
they will always find a song
sung right here
in this wild little sing-a-long.

BeLove © 2019


Author: Be Love

My roots are buried in the Dirty South. I grew up learning the importance of God and Southern Charm. I began writing in my late teens mostly through heartbreak and music. I moved out west 15 years ago and live right around the corner from the Fountain Of Youth. Most people refer to it as Lake Tahoe. I play Chef during the day and search for ways to save the world by night, through reading, writing, and believing. I enjoy the side of life that is less abrasive. I look forward to joining you on my quest through Spiritual Sobriety with the Promised Land as our ultimate destination.

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