Growing Dawn Of Death Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Rhythm of the wind silently fills the land, allowing
each of us to hear a different melody.

There are no tranquil feelings floating about tonight,
all of them have crash-landed, belly-up, upon the
heated pavement in our lives.

None of us can reach a settlement, we haven't any clues
on how best to live our lives without letting go of our
hidden qualities.

Myriads of ages pass by, bringing with them, moths of
time, eating away our talents quickly, taking away our
short-lived fame.

No where on earth can a rhythm find it's way to life,
except through another human being, faith or God.

Stranded in lost tunnels of yesterday, we look for home,
not recognizing it's scenery, because we have changed
ourselves so much.

Walking away from those we love, rejecting their love
of us, we choose rather to live alone.

Having gone down many steps of life, we stop here upon
the final landing and put our lighted candle down,
going on unhesitatingly in the growing dawn of death.