Without Rhyme Or Reason

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The Dust Of The Old - A Sonnet

When all is quiet; deep darkness descending,
And stillness settles in silent abode,
I enter a placid plea of unbending,
Wait for the ensuing storm to implode,

When all is gone, only hope will survive,
And faith for the faithless; God proven right,
Spirit though tested, is still much alive,
Standing defiant to finish the fight,

When nothing remains but memories dear,
The dust of the old departing in time,
A vision once vague now perfectly clear,
Waiting to witness the final decline,

Capture the scene, just one more exposure,
A decade to grieve, a moment to closure.

Linda Stuart Harnett, © April 2010

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The Dust Of The Old - A Sonnet