You are hereCycles


By jamesaguiar - Posted on 22 January 2010

alone at last,
now day is gone.
light's long hours are past.
small battles won
just an instant ago
fade and dim so lost to one.
night swallows stuff made in the sun
even as darkness buries shame.
my name is lost in ebon
traceless, meaningless, to heaven.
the next light will start anew
the need to do, to win, excel.
so works, endlessly the treadmill to hell.
but there is a chance: the chance to see
the next revolution of what might be.


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