What Am I?

I can spy the sun aloft. So high.
I can feel its warmth so deep. A lie.
I can carve away its beams of light
Till all that falls are strips of blight.
The shreds that drift and fell so soon
Are woven tight. A jet cocoon.
When what remains, reborn inside
The son of me that could not hide.

What am I?

© Brandewulf 2018

16 comments

  1. I read once that our negative feelings play an important role in our lives, being these big, flashing signs that sh needs to change.

    I don’t know about that and I don’t know what this is or I dare not say. (I know very little these days). What I can and will say is you are an amazing poet (that has been missed) and a remarkable human being (don’t ever forget that. If you do, I’ll be there to slap you with that trout).
    Merry Christmas, my dear George.

    Liked by 3 people

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