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The Dark Night Of The Soul

written by: Charlie Bottle

@CharlieBottle

 

In this moment, between how and why,

I ponder the slice of the day sky,

Wedged twixt an eave and a tree,

A tree that clings to a rock precariously,

And from my vantage point I see,

In the bright and distant horizon,

Ominous, dark breakers rolling in,

Rushing in fury towards the shore.

The shore where crabs crawl sideways,

And, sandpipers chase wet sands,

Running to ebbs and flying from flows,

Picking morsels, the waves left behind,

The oncoming waves rise, curl, and rush.

Crashing on the rocks and rushing past,

In fevered momentum to hug the shore,

In a white foamed embrace,

And, on the curtained mists that arise,

The morning Sun casts fleeting rainbows.

 

In this moment, as birds sound the night cry,

I ponder the dome of the night sky,

And the dark nights of the many souls,

Whose dreams have in darkness vanished,

And, their hopes drowned in the wells of despair.

In this moment, naught enters the tents of sorrow,

Save the starlight, that comforts their souls,

The light traversing eons of cosmic dust,

Travelled light-years to this moment,

Arriving as hope, in this soul crushing time,

Across the fabric of space that is before time.

Before the existence of the elements of existence,

And before the light began the measure of time.

Then there was only love, and love was existence,

Love existed as a tree in a seed, and as seeds on a tree.

And Love, in love brought this realm into being,

That we may learn to love in worlds without love.

In this moment, This Love, comforts us with peace.

Charlie Bottle

Charlie Bottle

Charlie Bottle's passion is poetry. He has lived on three continents, speaks five languages and loves different cultures, people, music and food. He believes that "Poetry uses the economy of words to express the essence of our humanity." It is this magical use of brevity to express the profound that drew him to poetry. While his professional and personal life has pulled him in different directions, He continues in his discipleship of the craft and writes whenever the muse moves him. While English is his second language it is the language in which he lives, breathes, thinks and writes poetry.
Charlie Bottle

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