Dusk

This is a poem I wrote more than 20 years ago. I think it relates to the feelings of uncertainty and loneliness that I described in yesterday's post.


I.

Far away a dim light glows
Then the light rays bend
Now, more quickly, the small light goes
Never to be seen again

II.

Why is it that when it's dusk
The world is so hard to see?
It seems that when the vision matters most
The light looks so dim to me

III.

At an earlier age the time was bright
And the roses looked very different from the thorns
But now all the world is night
The dark air is damp from rain
And I often wonder if I am touching a flower
Or, are my fingers too numb to feel the pain?