Yard Sale of Thoughts

The mourning dawn departed,
red-eyed and remorseful,
a believer and a con.

What is left is a stiff neck,
a course uncharted,
frightening with the lights back on. 

Darkness had its reign
a blurry film, a cataract,
we froze in pain for decades,

but we're ready for contact
from the place we first departed
where the bright lights first came on.

When winter's cocoon weakens
to a thin, transparent shell, 
we attune to our own departing.

Ready for lift-off,
we chase the lights 
we thought were gone.

© 2024 | K.F. Hartless

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Cover Art: Leandro Sanchez