All to soon...

Like some fever pitch time,
Out of left field,
Quick and new to our end,
Trusts withered up,
Like old papers and books,
Full up with dry rot.
Foundations, rocked
Cooled off and ashen,
A shifted place,
All this did become.
Bleak days,
That the sun gave no reprieve,
Realizing newness, unwanted,
Not believed
Whistles blow,
Trains pass,
Emotions swell,
And the rains did last.
Like some ironrod,
Stern.
Whole and full and learned.
You stand,
Here,
Fresh,
At this time,
Wonderment, bleak
Arising into a heart, vacant
And, new.
A challenge to the truth,
Of your insistent blue.
Like some seaborn storm,
It came in,
With a flourish dark and bleak,
And, we pushed acceptance,
Mild and meek.
It sat here,
Stirring,
Building,
Growing,
Ruminating,
In a foreign place,
At some distant and dreaded pace.
We walked to you,
With outstretched hands,
Still paints and illustrations,
Of new, unchartered lands.
A future changed,
Hope,
Disdain,
Wonderment stifled,
And fear contained.
Then a morningyear did come,
Fogs lift, panes are wiped clean.
Tears dry and hearts beat calmer.
Winds still,
Limbs and stillbrush will be cleaned away,
Long nights will falter,
Give way to sun,
Days...easier.
Not as long.
Truth settles down,
Like a soft hot afternoon.
And, peace.
Peace will come,
All to soon.