Poetry, I guess

At times, tainted life of light will shatter.

When it hits some undiscovered matter,

Say the ground, or a plane, or even you,

darkness comes, and you’ll wonder what to do.

Your life is like that short, or long, lived light.

Nothing matters if your day is so bright

that, should the days of others be clouded,

your joy makes all fear become unshrouded.

Out in the open with nowhere to hide

exists the choice of letting fear decide.

Only when light reveals an empty night,

can we put aside our near-constant fright.

 

 

______________________________

 

I have no idea what makes a good poem…

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