Richard Pierce

Life, Poetry, Writing

2020

It is the weight of this year,
The heaviness of each dark morning,
The silence of the first waking,
And the emptiness of air
Where once warmth was,
That makes the day seem too fierce to face.

We crave sunlight for its brightness,
Not always for its warmth.
It is the light that lifts us and the days.
It is the light that draws us out
Of ourselves and into the lives of others,
And then we realise we are the light.

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