Images - By the Hearth

The morning will come, I have been told,
But I don't see it there,
I am sitting here, crouched in the darkness,
wondering what is right and what fair.
The rains have graced the thirsty earth,
I know that smell too well,
But no fire graces this blackened hearth;
Maybe it needs new stories to tell.

You make a road map of my past,
No whites, no blacks, just filled with grey;
The anomalies that the darkness reveals,
Are so well hidden from the sun's rays.

I think back on what it is that I've done,
And the thoughts just go astray.
The mysteries of life and death yet to come,
They take my peace away.

I am a mirror, reflecting all I can,
A lamp to give all light,
And yet I happen to be that very man,
That gave up during his fight.