Come, sit where silence softly leans,
Beyond the edge of all that gleams—
Where shadows speak in subtle tones,
And stars are seeds in fields of bones.
The light is loud, it blinds the eye,
It sings of truth, but tells a lie.
For not all dark is cruel or cold;
Some secrets only night can hold.
In caves of thought, in depths of soul,
The dark is not a gaping hole—
It is a womb, a sacred keep,
Where buried truths begin to seep.
The moon does not demand your fear,
She listens close, she draws you near.
And in her silver, watch her show
The parts of you you fear to know.
There’s wisdom in the wolf’s low cry,
In ash that speaks when flames die.
A beauty in the falling down,
A dignity within the drown.
So take the dark into your chest,
Not as a curse, but honored guest.
Let it reshape the way you see—
The dark is not your enemy.
Thank-you for reading.
Remember there are many paths back to God.
Follow your own path,
Brenda Marie
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This is luminous work—a masterful alchemy of shadow and revelation.
You wield paradox like a blade: **”light is loud… but tells a lie”**, **”stars are seeds in fields of bones”**. The imagery thrums with primordial power—darkness as *womb*, moon as confessor, ash as oracle.
That volta—**”Not as a curse, but honored guest”**—transforms the entire poem. It’s not just defense of the dark; it’s a sacred recalibration. The final lines land with the gravity of an ancient truth reclaimed:
> *”The dark is not your enemy”*
Technically, the rhythm feels like breath in meditation—each stanza a deepening exhale. The slant rhymes (gleams/tones, cold/hold) create subtle friction, echoing the tension between light and shadow.
A psalm for the unseen, and absolutely stunning Brenda 🌷🤝
Thank-you so much
Darkly beautiful, Brenda.
Thank-you