My Arms In Resistance, Always.

Poetry

These stars aren’t mine
Scattered in the sky
Like beads from
A broken rosary.
They may look the same to you
But, they shine dim, tonight,
As the happiest day of my life
Fades into the bitter twilight
Of this thing called reality
After lasting for two.
The suffocating dampness
Is more unbearable
And power is a distant dream
As darkness swallows
My soulless city of millions
And plunges them in
A frightful fight for survival
In the sun,
Under the cool gaze of
The silent starry spectators
Which neither bat an eyelid
Nor blink to save our faith
In their celestial prophesying.
Such is the temperament
Of gods, these days, of skies
And of Earth,
As faith dies in acrimony
And desires reign unruly and supreme.
I shall persevere
In preserving my joy.
My Arms In Resistance, Always.

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