It started as a small, inky black speck on the horizon. Not threatening or ominous, a peripheral presence most often passed over. Living moved forward, the roller coaster of busy and not moving toward another year. Like a plague of locusts, the darkening grew, pestilence on the wing. Heralded by a downburst, the immense weight of the burden spread, blotting out the sun and stars. With lightening and thunder, it will finally blast apart, opening into the infinite light of Peace.
Categories: Poetry