Rage

Rage

 

Morning brings all the joy of renewal,

Yet every morn is still a sense of loss.

Renewal can’t come without something lost.

Each sunrise gave way to night that began

With sunset. Each newborn cry is only

The remnant of yesterday’s funeral.

Yet we persist in oblivion to

What went before, never knowing there’s

Nothing new under the sun. Yet aphorisms flow

For ignorance is bliss, indeed, and

Without it we could never go into

That good night that beats like the hearts

Within our chests, repeating its cycle

Of joy and sorrow. Right now, I live in

This cycle of choosing rejoicing o’er

Depression. But perhaps I’ve gotten to

Where I’m not really sure the difference,

Yet I will rage, rage against the black night.

 

October 2019