Introduction

I don't really write poetry- hell, I don't even read it- but this poem just kind of showed up in my brain last night. I guess I felt like I had to write it down somewhere.

The angels sing their refrain:
"His glory shall reign.
His will shall be done,
And just like the sun,
It will scorch out wholly
All that we hold dear,
But do not have a fear,
For it's only the light of day,
And all the sinners will pay."

There are things best in the nighttime,
Secrets to hold close and tight.
Even the greatest fall
When we build our towers too tall,
Try to reach the sun,
As though we and God are one.

The ever-watchful eyes
Of providence and pride
Must be plucked out one by one,
Taken from the sun.
Burning in their wrath and might,
They don't realize
That some things should be left
In the dark of night.
They'll never turn out the lights.

Don't hesitate
And don't look away.
Hold on tight
And turn out the lights.

I see a thousand
Glowing, vengeful eyes.
They are angry.
Turn the lights off.

The angel's eaten,
But he still hungers.
He's broken me
And I'll never recover.
Don't go near him.
Don't be scared
But don't be fooled.
He is hungry.
Turn the lights off.

So, yeah, I guess I'll call it "Turn The Lights Off." Creative, I know.