This forlorn place
This world in
Shrouded grey
Beyond the straight
A farther shore
Receding
In the mist
Beyond the straight
A farther shore
Receding
In the mist
In the intricate darkness
I find beauty
I find insight
Without a subtle understanding
Of the complexity of darkness
I will never see the light truly
I begin to understand
Why both the light and the dark
Are necessary
All there is
Is me
And nature
All I need
Is to open them
To see truly
And the light floods in
It is the grey world of the mundane
Which confounds my seeking
Where everything which casts a shadow
Seems lighter than the darkness
The misty grey
Becomes a canvas
On which I create worlds
A single flower
Still held in bud
Though petals fall
Onto the pond
They tarry there
Before they sink
And come to rest
To where they’ll feed
Next season’s bloom