Last Relief

February 5, 2017
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In dreams the light near my bed flickers on and I wake before the rest of the world.
My feet are cold, I'm growing old.
They say I'm slowly dying.

Out my window there's a light, she's guided by the moon.
I know the light will come again,
I fear it will wake them soon.
I need no more than my guitar and old cigar to greet this light.
Time is done, the war is won, I'm ringing out my fright.
Out my window, off my bed, I see there's something more.
It touches deep, I start to weep, I feel it in my core.

Shuffling through the long grass, willed by just the light.
I'm blinded by its beauty,
Blinded by its right.
I'm almost there, it will have me soon.
The light will swallow me whole as it pushes out the moon.
The rain has come, I'm dressed in white.
Starting to say goodbye to the night.
Further in the long grass than I ever thought I'd go, sitting down I start to play the light a show.
I pick up my guitar and play the only song I know.
And sing.
And cry. But in a good way.

The light is here! It finally came, and now the morning has ceased it's rain.
Goodbye the moon, his many stars.
Goodbye the dark, it's painful scars.
My cigar is tucked behind my ear, but I forget it,
The light is here.

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