Sun

He sits,
staring at a horizon that holds the future just out of sight,
as if he stands on his tippie-toes and peak over the edge of the world he could find what he's been looking for.
Answers.
But instead he sits, with a bottle of lies at his fingertips and a glass of its offspring in his hand.
It whispers to him.
He shivers at their words, and his hands continue to shake long after the goosebumps fade away.
He kisses the glass and the heat in which it brings makes him think that soon he'll breathe fire.
The shaking stops.
That's what medicine is for, he thinks.

They say at the edge of the world you'll find truth, and that all men who look will learn.
So he waits, the volume of lies nothing more than just another way to tell the time. And as the lies do more than just whisper to him, rocking the world back and fourth beneath his feet like a baby in a craddle,
he sees it.
Truth.
Bold and vibrant and fierce and strong, burning its way over the horizon, casting away shadows made of monsters, making those who look look away from its beauty and power lest they go blind for their selfishness.
The world goes still for a moment, the craddle stops rocking, and he thinks with such clarity and serenity it's as if he knew peace all along, in a world that has lies that lay on the tip of everyone's tongues, there will always be those who speak the truth.
That no matter how dark the night may be, light will always shine so long as you wait, and hope is never far from reach.

Reviews

[Damien Ridge]

Makes me think of a homeless man downtown where I live. Was a very powerful poem that easily painted a picture for me. I loved the atmosphere of it, and the way it was written. Thanks for sharing!