When Black Is The Color Du Jour

Sad times...Bad times

There’s a time in all men’s lives
A time when the soul
Can do no more
…Than cry…

When scars are graven
In script broadly writ
On the heart and deep…
within the eye

When the sky is barren
Of Sunlight and Angels
The days become
Grey and dust dry

The very spirit is smothered
By blanket of despair
Exposed and uncovered
Like an ill hidden lie

Yet…In the season’s of time
There returns reason  and rhyme
 The darkness retreats
…Church bells chime…

The once hard heart softens
The spirit revives
Both sunlight and Angels
Shine down on our lives

And the soul?…It returns
From that black hole
Where it hides
A bit tattered and torn
More weathered and worn
…Yet It survives…
It survives…It survives!

Author's Note

We've all been down there (you might have to read it more than once to read it like I meant it to be read.)

Reviews

[Marie]

Okay, I read it more than once, and I hope I read it like you meant it to be read.

I was in that position as early as last night, when I caught a chill and couldn't get rid of it. All I could do was shiver (in the texas heat). But today came with sunshine and angels, and I feel much better.