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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