The Crawling
The Crawling…
The quiet night
crawls on—a snail’s pace.
Likewise the lazy snow flakes
seduced by the pull of gravity.
During the day—humility
gracefully exited; power seduced
a whining tyrannical soul: Robbing
it of its sacred humanity.
Forecasted for tomorrow
is uncertain uncertainty.
The quiet night
crawls on:
With insomnia—We
prepare for dawn.
Copyright © Millard Lowe | Year Posted 2017
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