Dark’s Illusion

You have fought the dusk,
battled the encroaching darkness,
unsure whether you can survive
the cancerous dark,
the secret killer
that lies just behind your sparkling eyes,
like a murderous assassin,
waiting for it’s moment,
sure as Satan,
that your weakness will prove fatal,
surprised that now,
your moment of surrender,
the closing in of night
is not your death knell,
but merely a rest before the resurrection,
the God in you laughing
at darks’ illusion,
sure of the outcome,
without knowing a single detail.

About this poem. 

Faith is not knowing the details, but trusting the outcome. I never seem to know the details. I’m half way there.

The picture was taken at nightfall in West Pawlet, Vermont.

Tom