In the darkest hour, we are more susceptible to the light. Only as we face such wrong can we truly appreciate what is right. In the darkest hour, my shadow became my light
My demon took over me, I lost me in me, I became what I never wanted to be.
For long, have I longed to paint my world, but the needed paints were not found in its colour plants, So I dipped my brush right in my soul’s porch finding needed combinations, and boom! Without calculations, what I searched outwardly, was innate all the while, proudly hidden in plain sight.
I suppose I was immature wishing the world was bright and pure and when that fateful event occurred, my disease could not be cured, I held what I had and now it’s gone.
Now it became my plight, I had to bring myself consciously out of myself to view life as I would. I pray my weary heart be still, though my journey is almost over, my race is nearly run. As I lay here in the fading light surrounded by young and old. I await the generations which my story will be told.
Now at the dying of the light. As I slowly loose the strength to fight.
I lay and await the call, the final journey in this life, the ride into the next.
A chance to take my stock, a chance for a much needed rest.
Those wounds will only heal If you let them, so never be afraid to show the world your flawless, fading scars because you will never know how many will be inspired to walk hand in hand with you when they they see your beautifully bold visage.
Embrace the adversity that they themselves shied away from.
I am the match in the dark, I am that brave warrior!