Beautiful ashes, scattering about on the early morning breeze;
A solemn frigid welcome is what was expected,
An overcast sky and a lingering dawn.
It is a new day but night seems to persist;
Each season seemingly more turbulent than the last.
Persistent night, made bearable only by merciful flashes of Light.
Victory
Sound Of Victory
It begins in the depths;
Sounds like a struggle at first, then it breaks free…
It is a little spring with the force of a mighty volcano;
It is a sound with a single note,
Communicating a singular message – Victory!
It begins at the sight of the finish line;
With each additional step it soars in might,
Bolstered on by the sound of the rushing winds
Till it gloriously erupts at the breaking of the tape.
Gratitude, Always
It’s a minute to midnight,
I’m watching the clock tick-tock its way to a new dawn;
Trying to capture the exact moment of the transition;
This wouldn’t be my first attempt,
Though each time I’d managed to miss the tangibility
Of that sharp dividing line separating old from new.
Sometimes I wish everything would come to a standstill –
A moment of silence to acknowledge the passing of a season.
Sometimes I wish there would be a tremor
Through the fabric of existence,
To signal the birth of a new cycle.
Makafui's Journal 