Lost In Midnight

Behold the foreign, darkened glade
Where native strength began,
Entwined in rage, a welcome shade
That to the twilight ran.

Behold the path the shadow left,
The imprint onto the ground,
Its leaves now crushed by memories cleft
From life and never found.

Behold the very driving force
That rides the flitting breeze
Now meekly fall before remorse
And linger 'midst the trees.

by Bryn Williams

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Comments (1)

This is a stunning piece of art.