A POEM
BY LUKE EDWARD WORSTER
FAITH
All is calm and still,
As a light wind picks its way
Delicately through the flowers.
The earth sighs of passing hours
As the moon’s sleepy head
Droops slowly into bed.
BELIEF
The moon appears slowly,
Sliding between the clouds,
Allowing those unholy
To use shadows as shrouds.
The night turns cold,
The moon becomes bold.
And darkness deepens.
The sun swiftly appears
Striding through the clouds,
Banishing the fears
Of the scared and the proud.
Fire scours away the night
Turning horizons alight
With golden magnificence.
HOPE
Black.
Pitch black.
Quiet.
Too quiet.
The world waits
With bated breath
For that first glimmer
Of light,
Of hope,
Of new beginnings.
I enjoyed reading the poem. It would be nice to have some information about the painting.