He flies halfway between day and night.
His wings reach out, touch the rooftop of my home.
The silence outside me, the noise inside me…
I hear him.
Tomorrow, he tells me, will be softer. More forgiving. Wait.
I believe him.
His message quiets my raging mind.
Delivered tenderly, I feel the force behind his words not to go gentle into this good night.
Feathered fingertips brush blue sky down into the pinks and purples of evening.
I will live to see him, this paintbrush of the Gods, bring the periwinkle light of sunrise up into sapphire skies.
My #writephoto, a weekly writing prompt for poetry/flash/short stories hosted by Sue Vincent
I offer this as a beacon of hope for the 99-word challenge at Carrot Ranch this week.
In 99 words (no more, no less) write about a beacon. It can be from a lighthouse or other source. Use the word literally or figuratively and go where the prompt leads you.