Dark Times
Longing for Dusk
I think I prefer the dark times. Times when society wasn't ruled By the clicking thumbs and thumbnails By rectangular contraption of chips— Scraps arranged to attract And to distract— So much that the sun is eclipsed By the dings of notifications The moon waning to the light of screens, I
Think I prefer the dark times. When silence wasn't horror, but The voice beneath conversation of life When the wind chimed it's soothing tones Of pale, cool, and vibrant dawn The morning waking lazily with a satisfied sigh To greet agile men on low stools, bare bodied and chewing sticks dangling from their lips And women—sirens In skins of black and brown, Smooth and luscious, The light caressing Their plumpness with golden palms Arms stretched from beneath earthen pots A contrast of light and dark, Beauty painted on the canvas of waking earth.
The man stare and smile with pride—
The reasons he conquers the beaten ground
She stirs with determination
Meets his gaze with fondness and touch of
"Are you serious right now?
Get on with yours
And move out of the line
Of my parade." I think
I prefer these dark times,
For the light have scorched my eyes
The noise has dried the marrow
Of my existence's bones
And I sit—
staring at flickering flames
Of memories,
And the longing
It kindles.
—From Kodaq with ScarsThank you for reading the storms we carry. Subscribe for more psalms and tears clothed in hymns told by— the best storyteller of all time— scars
The storms we carry—are the wounds I have nurtured since—I can’t even recall when—and the scars they leave behind when they are conceived and spilled as ink onto blank, damp pages. They come as the winds pass, and as we know not where they come from, we can only sit back, relax, and… just read.




This is beautiful. Wanted to requote a part but could not😭. Still a lovely read none the less