It has been some time since my last post, but I have been working on a new poem I thought I’d share. Perhaps enjoy is the wrong word, but, you know, read. And ponder.
Shadow-born, in darkness we,
Who labor all ‘neath dying star,
And long for peace amidst long war,
For green amidst long greying scars.
Sorrow-born, in mourning we,
Who trudge with ever-slowing step,
As languid days grind bones to dust,
We move from dream to want to must.
Sightless-born, and fools we,
To ever seek and never find,
To build the tow’r, to touch the sky
And never truly wonder why.
-Charles Baldon, May 2015