sublimity

one of my first poems

Dark, biting, unwelcoming night
A morning glory peaking through the black
Vibrant, illuminant glory

But it is not morning

In a field of closed, unforgiving flowers

One confused glory opens

It will never be accompanied
     Drinking, eating, sleeping alone
Surrounded with peers y which it will never be forgiven
Alone

Alone and beautiful

Always vibrant, but never showing to the open eyes of day
Strange in a field of its own kind