While monsters in our midst,
shed sallow contraband upon our mind,
when gathering upon the storm,
seeking shelter beyond the norm,
there is that constant we might recall,
a certain Grace in common language.
for everyone is given cause to learn,
in struggle, sunsets will remain.
We fight the crazies by instinct we know,
the candor of survival a goal,
and yet, in the time of forgotten peace,
how quickly do our souls begin to ache,
searching aimless in a cloud of foil,
unsure of ourselves, little left to convince,
the pattern of response becomes reaction,
yet, quite apparently, sunsets will remain.
Inside the pretty fashion of calm design,
there instills a certain measure of sanity,
our pulse is drawn within the scope
of humankind, the solace being so kind.
Until the fabric begins to wear, shadows tear
away at the still life photograph of sweet bliss.
We cannot always find a way to piece together
our broken spirit. Yet, sunsets will remain.
In the morning, the offer of delight is an energy
we celebrate harmony knowing sunsets will remain.