Light Over the Quarry
The sun sets.
Every day, the sun sets.
The ridgeline over the quarry turns to shadow dancers,
every few minutes, a new pirouette, a new landscape,
the next one a shade darker than the last.
It does not matter how much light you carry with you,
the darkness comes.
It is, for you, inevitable.
but still, you carry the light,
just enough to last you
About this poem.
About the light over the quarry where I live. About depression. About the ups and downs of life.
I rarely write a poem about a single thing, it seems. I’m like that.
PS – the picture was taken looking over the quarry across from my house.