The Sunday Whirl: Wordle 530

At the edge of the world
where a hive roars with life
the chatter is humming
the work seems like strife

the stars burn so brightly
a feline mews low
a candle flicks warmly
with a hazy, soft glow

It’s a sign of the times
a role destined to play
a curse of the future
where a secret might lay

And so it is here now
that we wander alone
Do we face what’s there waiting?
Should we fear the unknown? 

©2021 CBialczak Poetry

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