Saturday Centus 144 by Jenny Matlock
To know light
Mighty dark must rear it’s head
Tread the ground around you
Too full of itself to care
Fair days are over
Oh, how darkness hangs around
A funny thing of darkness
Dark also mutes the sound
Round the bend are Macs
Stacked full of darkness waiting to unload
Unaware of the need for anyone
Any person to light one light
Might there be someone
Some hope of match to light
Tightly held in a Believer’s hand
Standing for the light
Right the familiar darkness seems
Beams catch my light-starved eyes
I see a tiny pinpoint
Peeking around the dark side of the stars.
