The first poem below was written while I was in Year 8 at school, which explains the poorer quality. It is necessary, however, to understand the second which I wrote recently. The second looks at the first, and tries to understand and explain what I was feeling when I wrote the first, and how things have changed
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It is Dusk



It is dusk
and as I walk along the path
I watch the sun fall
dying
for the night.

It is dusk
and as I walk along the path
I look up at the shining disc
that is
the full moon

It is night
and as I walk along the path
I watch the lights in the darkness
the stars brightly silhouetted against the
inky blackness that is
the night.

It is night
and as I walk along the path
I light a torch, to see.
Man fears the darkness
the unknown
so he takes it away with fire, with light
for darkness fears
the light.

It is night
and as I walk along the path
I stumble
my torch burnt down, burnt out
and once again I am left in
the darkness.

It is dawn
and as I walk along the path
I see
that the stars have faded drom view
and the moon no longer
shines

It is dawn
and I watch as the sun and the day
are reborn.



It is Dusk2



It is Dusk,
and as I return to the path
an ease of familiarity breathes over me.

It is Dusk,
and as I return to the path,
I gaze towards the setting sun.
A vision I have seen here before.
Yet now I understand its significance.

It is Dusk,
and as I walk the path once more,
Its curves known, its intricacies unveiled,
it stretches into the distance, far beyond the part I have experienced.
Depths of detail yet undisturbed.

It is night,
and as I turn back, to walk the path once again,
I stride to the point I stumbled last time
and step over it knowingly.

It is night,
and in the bravado of youth
and Hubris of Intellect
I stumble somewhere else
No less careless.

It is night,
and as I sit on the path,
I look up at God’s own torches
and sip from a waterskin.
The night conceals only what my imagination wills.

It is night,
and I stand once more.
I walk along this stretch of road.
Perhaps the last time.
I hope never to come back.
Had I the chance, I would gladly walk the distance
some other way.

It is dawn
The alternate shining disc
Rising, reborn.
Such a path that holds great fears.
Such a path that holds great pathos.
Such a path that is walked always alone.
Holds no sway, in hindsight.