Details |
Dishant Clyborne Poem
The Healing Of Dark
Fallen in sands but didn't mix with the ashes.
Yet not came my time to depart.
Sometimes had to be on own; had to leave others apart.
Once a time came,
found myself smeared with dirt, bruises showing up with every
drop of blood being washed away by rain.
Knew I was alive and awake, all the way had no idea, just felt the pain.
Could not just sit and suffer but had to walk.
Wandering on my lost path, nobody on the way to help the poor.
Worried about what is to happen aftermath.
Walking longs of steps, I began to uncover something that
seemed to be great.
A huge place, that was covered with cloak of clouds and endless rain.
But proved to be ever peaceful.
The residents flawlessly liberated an aura of wisdom and sophistication,
mastered the art of dark.
And then, a man approached me,
dressed in complete dark
Though not visible his face, requested me to follow his lead.
Being left with deep agony, I chose to follow him instead.
He took me to the place, resided by more of his fellow.
They let me sit and rest.
Fed the most satisfying meal of life, but what was it for, nobody addressed.
To me, they all looked hermits.
But there belonged someone, who was different.
As she came near to alleviate my wounds,
I felt her hand of enchantment, rinsed with pure dark alchemy.
Speaking to me with her magical voice.
She said,
"All of these bruises are yours; they form on you every time you learn something.
The more you fear dark, the more you lose your path.
The world perceives the darkness as discomfort, but nobody knows the same darkness beholds the immense energy to heal the world.
We reside within you, and your every pain will bring you closer to us, the darkness.
When you feel the things, you heal the things.
What you do to accept the pain and move on is what the Healing Art of Dark.
Copyright © Dishant Clyborne | Year Posted 2023
|