Sunday, August 30

The night before the first light

Stand with me, hold
My hand, as I stand here, deserted
For I’m alone, the fate
Of my tomorrow, on a coin, rests
While my heart, it beats
Out of control, no sync
With the clock, on the wall

Stand with me, behold
The sky turns white, from the dark
Blackness inside of me, it speaks
A million words of, turbulence
Unsure of what it’ll see.

Stand with me, alert
Of all that’s around me, alive
Like the sky that brings, the light
That shall guide me through, the dark
As the night before the first light, shall pass.


Sarthak Prakash said...

you weren't joking when you said that you write - you do, and rather well too!

the title is brilliant,
as is the progression of ideas,

i especially liked the part "the fate
Of my tomorrow, on a coin, rests"

however, poetry needs to be tighter,
something, if not entirely, should somewhat distinguish the piece from prose, and from free rhyme, which i feel is not really rhyme,

do keep writing,
for the better and the verse,

Ritayan said...

wow dude somehow this poem strikes a chord with me sure you can understand why and i am esp in love with the last stanza....absolute genius...keep writing

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