Jo Bien Poet Classicism

Dead of Night

once again, a lonely trail
dust settles thick on this lost tale
no stars guide, no moon light
no haven sought in the dead of night

desert days of sun and heat
evening comes without relief
nothing wet will quench your thirst
loneliness remains a curse

bedding down on mountain terrain
a sudden burst of monsoon rain
unrelenting, a driving force
even this will not stop you

redemption, something needed quick
praying to saints, intensity thick
but backs are turned no answer comes
rising from knees left scratched and numb

starting over and over again
not letting anything fence you in
freedom comes, the cost is high
happiness always in short supply

rounding the bend, it's looking up
divinity finally fills your cup
but it has a crack and grace runs free
heaven is never a guarantee

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