Mysteriously, the sun rises

Mysteriously
the sun rises
over the water,
over the trees
over your darkened soul.

Light
after dark,
after the pain,
some of it yours to own,
some of it beyond your control,
beyond even, your understanding.

Light,
predictable, a cycle
of life
that sometimes you claim
and other times miss altogether,
your eyes shut in fear or spite.

And so you stand on the shore.
You breathe in the thing you worship.
You breathe out the agony you live.
Beathe in the warmth.
Breath out the emptyness,
and begin
again.

About this poem

The light is there. We have to let it in.

The picture was taken on the Eastern Shore of Virginia.

Tom