Until The Morning Comes (An Older Poem I Wrote)

Clouds above,

dark and dreadful,

thunder and lightning just ahead,

still I walk.

 

Night approaches fast,

or so it seems,

storms of life are deceptive that way,

destructive that way,

yet I continue on,

step after step through valley's floor.

 

Walking,

one foot,

one effort after the other,

remembering all the while:

these are only storms,

and all storms pass,

all hardships pass.

 

I travel these treacherous journeys,

make way through dangerous,

remembering in such places,

such times as these:

that there is a day,

light returns,

and with it hope;

and so I walk,

until the morning comes,

longing for the day,

the light,

renewal of hope,

from a long road taken,

realizing it's always been here,

witnessed in the miles crossed faithfully.

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