Slow, bleak, tired
My mind tends to wander
Look up, up!
Past the stars and yonder
My mind tends to wander
Through the dusty fields
Past the broken views
I see a father and daughter
What is done is done
The door was closed
I shed one tear
Then vanished like a ghost
Through the fields
Past the sky
I reached out
Felt like the last goodbye
Beautiful, tragic, magic
It's something I've imagined
A vast expanse of black
We will never come back
It's a resource that we waste
A pillar of never-ending blame
It's our choice what we do with it
This precious gift of light
This figure that leads us through life
Hand in hand, until we see white
Time is what I speak of tonight.
-Finn Shonstrom
Comments
This is a really good poem!
Thank you so much!
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