Faith bestowed on the small by the mighty,
“that counts for something”, they said.
Eyes wide and longing, confused by the
fear of the silence falling on deaf ears.
As a group, they were fit and able
to carry the torch, with tentative ease,
though split apart, they crumbled to
coal-dust and fire; the skies are well lit.
In search of meaning, energy waned
and the well was soon drained dry.
#365DaysOfPoetry
Vast Imbecility 