Every Last Drop

Old Battlegrounds

Shadows stretching across the concrete.

I stare down. One creeps across my feet.

"Shouldn't you be afraid?"

The darkness asks me this,

but I know what others miss.

It's light that first cast shapes.

This is a broken twisted echo of what once was good,

and I fix my eyes on the sun and walk in its shade--

that's the original who burns sweet like it should.

I'm living in the reverse of Eden,

but that's all the more reason

when I'm lost in the abyss' cold gaze

to reach for the white and yellow rays

and be woven into its tapestry. Remade.

Facing old battlegrounds as a changed soul.

Under these divine wings, I was made whole.