There's a certain sparkle illuminating the night,
Yet I should know it's a disguise.
Your kind has always lied through eyes
And pushed to the edge mankind.
Why would you even try
To seduce my inner pride?
It's enough to know nature presides
Over the momentum of life.
But again, why, when these lies
Are not but for the love of light?
Why, then, rejoice in captured might,
When you ultimately inject spite?
I suppose it's a struggle to survive.
Move on, Artificial Light.
Illuminate someone else's sky.
The night may not be bright,
But it's authentic in sight.
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Comments about this poem (Artificial Light by Edwin Cordero )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936)
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