Tiny Pleasures

The infant sky was sweetly bruised pink
from its birth.
A new day has been born in the heart of autumn's
mirth.
The world magically evolves from solid dark
to shining light.
Which reveals how very bare thin the soul is worn.
We trudge the daily trenches, dragging our aching pain.
To immerse in swirling particles of hope dancing with the light's stain.
Reaching deep with lustful seize,
to possess the thousand tiny pleasures we see.
Breaking corroded skeletal bars, my spirit's joyful breech.
There are feelings that have no name, subsidiaries of peace.
That have come forth to finally reign.