Sonnet 3 Poem by Ebone' Ingram

Oh, darkness, darkness, is your advent near?
For life and light now take their somber toll.
The strongest men, of you they live in fear,
But I wait for the day you take me whole.
I've pressed and toiled perpetually through
The valleys and the mountains near and far.
This life has many battles, it is true;
But pain comes in the wounds becoming scars.
Some days, I could die; those times there's naught
I want here with me than that pleasant end.
With every hardship, deeply I have sought
To have that sacred solitude begin.
Oh, dark! I'm begging that you come before
My heart can lift its eyes here nevermore.