Midnight Light

To Wordsworth, poetry is the spontaneous overflow of emotions
I add, of experiences happy or sad, that serve as beacons
Whether it’s the global chain of terrorism,
Against the bulwark of heroism
Rippling to our domestic shores
Inspiring state-sponsor terrors
Or the fear instilled by cyber fraud
Perpetrated by a gang of clods
Or a barrage of thoughts swelling within
Wearing the body thin:
These spasms ignite a beacon,
Whose rays light the combatant’s path to VICTORY!