The Evening Beckons
A poem
A poem
The twilight hangs heavy like ripe fruit,
its dusky tones painting the horizon
in melancholy strokes.
I feel the weight of many seasons
gathered upon my brow,
The harvests and winters etched into the lines
that furrow my face.
In this evening of my voyage,
the distant lighthouse glows,
Guiding my storm-tossed ship
toward the shores of the unknown.
Not with dread do I go gently into that good night,
But as one who has challenged
the vast ocean’s might.
The mysteries that awaited me in youth have unfurled,
I have loved and lost and plunged my hands
into the soil that birthed the world.
Now I turn my gaze inward,
letting each memory flare bright,
As crimson clouds bid the sun farewell
until the darkness takes flight.
There is peace
in accepting this transient traveler’s end,
To have roamed widely, drank deeply,
and called the universe friend.
When at last the night surrounds me
in its starry mantle’s fold,
I will embrace it
as a weary explorer greets the homecoming untold.
If you enjoyed reading this, you may also want to explore and subscribe to my weekly Newsletter, Poetry Genius, which contains tips and discussion on all aspects of poetry writing.
Write for The Lark
Submission guidelines for a short story and poetry publicationmedium.com