Dark Hour
Windows shuttered tight against the cold and streets lay empty…their stories untold.
The island flinched at each distant boom,
as smoke and fire crept through every room.
Inside the hall, lamps glowed faint and dim.
Papers scattered along the polished rim.
Whispers floated, voices tight with fear,
each choice pressing heavier than it appeared.
He stood alone where the shadows crowded,
hands tight in his pockets,
heart beating loud.
No armor glinted, no fanfare played
just steady breath as the dark stayed.
Wind shivered along the vacant lanes,
doors whispered tales of hidden pains.
I leaned into the cold, letting it seep,
and found a quiet strength that would keep.
The nights stretched long, heavy with quiet;
I moved my pen to keep from riot.
The air pressed close… thick as old stone,
yet somewhere inside, a small fire shone.
I moved through dim rooms to the edge of the waves…
the wind and the rain testing the brave.
The island bent, yet did not break
and we held on for all our own sake.
Darkness weighed on me,
every breath hard to take.
I held my voice,
keeping a small spark.
The storm raged on…
but deep inside
a quiet light refused to hide.
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