
nobody seems to be grateful for the sun.
we will forget the warm rays one day,
brush it off like a dust-coated box.
I cannot forget it.
I have been poisoned by figments of ice and snow,
inconsequentially carving my nails into the ice, making
no sculpture,
no shape.
everyone remembers the sun
at sunrise.
there have been moments in the morning
as the darkness
cascades into light, and
I am stagnant, the light being the only movement.
the shift from dark to light is never a moment,
as a moment is a slip, a trip, a breath,
but it is time.
I’ve always
felt the resonance of the birds chirping,
like a flame in the back of my mind.
one day I will hear its full song,
and it will be beautiful,
or it will be
blinding.
Goals:
Write at least 30 poems, one poem per day
Read peoples' poetry
Subscribe to threads
Comment actual things in peoples' threads
Attempt to write good poetry and have fun
Previously on Ant's NaPos...
wilting flowers watered with melted icicles - NaPo 2025
screams brewed in the mind's boiling cauldron - NaPoWeek 2024
obsession inspired by wisps of real and imagined laughter - NaPo 2024


