Aspirational

Out of darkness, brightness
in these unsettled times.

Our desires met and then
channeled into something more.

Glory, not for ourselves or for
individual souls, but for the
good of all, the attempted
perfection we claim to seek.

Give us power to rise up and
not to waste this moment

where faith meets belief and
darkness has shined its own light.

 

This was written in response to a prompt from Miz Quickly

The original source poem is this one, which I guess I did not publish here previously.

A Poem Beginning With a Line by Sylvia Plath

Such a waste of brightness, I can’t understand

When the brightness is gone, we finally see
how much of it we wasted
with our small desires and
our wavering faith and
our striving for perfection as
we starved our very souls.

And for what, I wonder.

For the power and the glory
that were there all along
if we only cared to notice.
Now the darkness calls to us,
and how will we understand
that what is coming Is what
has already been?