AWAKEN

By Peter Woodgate 

When darkness begins to gently fade away

and shadows, black before,

become a shade of grey,

we wonder, at each object,

stark against the racing dawn,

the clarity of life, as each day is born.

 

Why marvel at these works of art

they are but shadows,

whispers of the great inception,

salmon, struggling upstream

swimming in the wrong direction.

 

For night must fall, decay concealing,

but truth, as light, is all revealing.

Pray then to hear the gunshot blast

for if we feel the bullet in our heart,

redemption is long since past

and pain is just the start.

 

 

Copyright Peter Woodgate (first published 1984)