It is as it was

It is as it was

Before electricity,

Dark and silent

Claims the day

As it crawls into the past,

Mocking any attempt

To make hay,

When the sun is buried

Beneath the makings

Of a thunderstorm.

Will it ever shine again

And if it does

What effect will it have

On the colour

Of brow beaten dreams

Bleeding into monochrome,

Pooling in lethargy.

I am powerless

No surge of adrenaline

To spur me on

Not since the darkness

Came to assert

Its ownership

Of the beginning,

When there was a shining.

Even as the sun set

It stretched out

Its fiery charms

To cast a protective spell

Over the morning

To come,

Brightening your face

With burnished gold,

Filling my heart with

The heat of you.

But what of the end

Did it happen

When the light went out

And the treasures

Of a rainbow

Disappeared into mystery.

It had to be you

Who departed,

The innocent one,

Unless we are both lost

In thrall to darkness.

Perhaps if we

Find a way to touch

The magic

That still flickers

In our souls,

We can generate

A spark

And rediscover

The true power

Abiding in

Electricity.