Golden Eye
Inside each of us, there is the seed of both good and evil. It's a constant struggle as to which one will win. And one cannot exist without the other.
~Eric Burdon
The golden eye peeked from the western hills
And glowered as streaks of cirrus passed by;
The clouds blushed, like purple daffodils
And tangerine blossoms in the crimson sky!
Higher up, clouds are many shades of gray
Looking grim and somber as they gazed below
Auguring the darkness that will end the day
As shadows cloak everything, ever so slow!
The trees by the foothills are but silhouettes
They’re dark and indistinct to the human eye
Memories of its green foliage evoke regrets
As glare from the golden eye sweeps the sky!
In the middle of the field, a massive oak tree
Towering and majestic; as she spread her wings
Sun rays gleam between her leaves, a sight to see
A beacon! as darkness envelopes all things!
The oak glimmers in light borrowed from the sun
Focal point to all awaiting imminent darkness
A metaphor for hope in the hearts of everyone,
That goodness can penetrate even the heartless!
03-22-2016
© Vic Evora
Another poem written seven years ago, Resurrected from the dustbin.
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