The Gas Lamp and the Morning Sun...

at night we are faced
with the light from the lamp
that sets itself
off
we are
accustomed somehow
to the
comfort of darkness

sometimes it is
us
that blows the light away
we kill it

we have known the meaning
of death

that morning
we are met with a different light
that lives a life of its own
that depends on no
gas or
fuel

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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