Returned

Before the sun had raised his head I was up and out of my winter bed.

Shoes laced and treading fast, my frightful time a distant past.

The sun now blazes my soul alive, with burning fire this man does strive,

For today is no longer yesterday it would seem, a new chance is born, a wondrous dream,

That awakes, and guides my soul once more.

 

No more am I knelt on the floor, nor rapping at that window, nor hammering at that door,

I am in, I am back inside, back to life my worries have died.

My eyes were red and sunken ships now pierce life’s horizon with their razor arrow tips.

That bastard bolted nailed door, is now unbolted,

And nailed no more.  

 

With each sink and soul demise, there is always a tomorrow, a chance to rise.

Although my greys collect and gather pace, this life is a marathon, not a crippling race.

Whatever it is this thing, this dark, this shadow. I have faced it now and stood the gallows,

Yet to drop and hear the crack, I keep in mind the sun is always at my front, and the dark,

Always at my back.

 

 

Copyright © 2017 Charlie Hasler.

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