Copyright © 1998 Benjamin A. Shelton
This poem is part of a collection of very old poems I wrote when I was fairly young. As a result, the vocabulary and general tone of the poem may not be up to par with many of my newer works.
The crimson stars of a dusty night,
Seem to imbibe, and hide the light.
In any case, in any way,
I see things change,
From day to day.
Hidden light, fading light,
Something that we cannot fight.
The only truths that lay inside,
Are those of which we’ve set aside.
The nightly fury of raging storms,
Those that take to many forms.
At any time, at any place,
I’ve seen them leave,
Without a face.
Hidden soul, frightened soul,
Sound that seems to never toll.
The only thoughts we have in mind,
Are those of which we’ve left behind.
The crimson stars of which I see,
Seem to entice the thoughts from me.
Within the dawn, within the night,
I see the dark,
Engulf the light.
Burning star, dying star,
Stuck within a night of tar.
The only means by which we see,
Are dreams that will not ever be.
The chaotic winds within the air,
Are secrets that we’ll never share.
Not ever once, not ever twice,
Never when we
Roll the dice.
Feathers fall, feathers fly,
Darting through the midnight sky.
The only sights we cannot catch,
Are those beyond the lighted match.