Early in the sunlit waste,
birds were flying east and south.
On their way was naught to see.
The waste too dark; the sun too bright.

Later in the darksome waste,
other birds flew west and north.
The sun was hid, the moon obscured.
Yet came near the hope of light.

Such a light, the dark recoiled.
Showing birds a patch of green.
In the patch was joy for all.
Food and drink, to each respite.

The green sufficed all who came.
Dark and night did not remain.
The light was why no one was sad.
Could the light persist unchanged?

Light so bold would soon retreat.
Forming words, the light transformed.
Light, all changing, yet remaining.
Birds forget, the light persists.

W. Wayne B.
Kindle poetry chapbook: Poems: Hope and Love

Follow me on Twitter: @williamwayneb

© 2013 W. Wayne B.