by Alexander Walls

The night is dark. The rain – it lashes down,
Its persistent pattering, dolorous
To my ears. The dull, sombre sky has drained.
Hearing the downhearted drops of the rain,
I think of such boundless, untold concepts.
But, like the rain, I find myself discharged,
Resigned to the asseveration from
Above. Now I am drained, delusional.

The day is bright. The sun – its beaming light
Coruscating the spires, glorifying
My surroundings. The bright, glad sky charges.
Beholding the radiant beams of light,
I think of such boundless, untold concepts.
And, like the sun, I find I’m enlivened,
Energised by the benevolence all
Around. Now is this still delusional?

It is twilight. The sky – it is sublime,
Awash with such colour, it is calming
To my soul – such serene tranquillity.
Standing pensively, musing the beyond,
I think of such boundless, untold concepts.
Then, like the twilight, the moment is gone,
Lost in the cyclical nature of thought
And time. This is the most unusual.