At Last it Comes

                 At Last it Comes

Sweet mist, the night ringing out so clear,

            her dancing step chiming on the sidewalk,

guitar strums emanating from the dark corners,

            glancing out to ream a new crescendo.

 

A painting calm tickling as light as a brushes stroke,

            nude in the wind the artist reveals his diamond;

sadness of the finish, but an understanding of the reality,

            that the end lies in the last breath, last beat of the heart.

 

Cancer of the mind, a haunting feeling of forgetting the last

            thing you were never meant to forget, the touch of love;

a piercing pain that comes from the pit of your stomach

            where your courage was swallowed whole, darkly shrouded.

 

It comes, that sweet sound, lighting up the corners of the shadows

            brimming with the touch of the softest petal,

the purest cascading waterfall; it comes in golden streams of sun,

            the lasting knowledge entangled in actuality, a light within darkened dreams.