Twilight Prevails: A Late Summer's Poem

the wind, it creeps through the hollows

the summer sun slowly sets

tall grass stands yonder

peacefully rustling evermore

all the while, a man awaits his absolution;

one that will never come...

salmon nebulas swim in sky,

yet the man sits, pondering

gulls cry unto him,

###"are thou not coming with us?"

and for the evening, they rest

but the man remains seated, stoic

a lonely goose warbles,

calling unto him,

"will thou not help me?"

the man utters not a word

he stares and is sessile

blue water crests and gently retreats

a great herron spreads its wings

it gently whispers to the wayfarer,

"come, but speaketh not."

yet the man remains, catatonic and cold

the sun slips into repose, twilight prevails

the imperial owl ceases its soar

in patriarchal condescension, it bellows:

"'thou shall cease!"

the man diminishes, delicately departing to dust

his sorrow scattered in the wind...

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I wrote the first draft of this poem during the latter part of summer 2011. I have since revised it to its current form. This is my favorite poem that I have written. I hope that you can find meaning in it.

*All images are public domain