Thursday, 14 September 2017

Cold Light

A soft laugh carries across the broken ground
Where water laps against dirt
Tinged red as a pale rose
Washed with the light of a setting sun
Across the stream the first faint glow of the moon
Ready to bathe the world in the cold, harsh light
Of truth
The laugh continues
Broadened by a soft wheeze
As the sun sinks lower and moon rises
Colour leeches from the world
Draining slowly away to leave shades of silvery grey
But the soft laugh stays
Unchanged by truth
For what is laughter but a shield of truth?
in the stream a stone rises slowly
Glistening in the silver light
Darkly glowing and moist
Upon the stone sits a man
Often mistook for statue he sits
And laughs
Tears run down his face leaving dark trails
That slowly fall into the water below
Endless flows from where once eyes sat and saw a world of life
Now empty and bare
For he wished but once to see
What was hidden and lost
He wished but once to know
All that had once been thought gone
But once did he wish to see the truth
Now he sits and laughs softly
Unmoving and stone
As the cold light of night rises

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