So tenebrous the night
The night throws my dreams like drakestonesto the current of my sensibilities. And what
makes so tenebrous the night I cannot say,
only that my dreams have no clarity nor
partition of truth. Even in the faces
of loved ones, the shadows fall awkwardly
in their sockets, while their eyes speak not
of color at all, but of unfamiliarity, and
I am left to discern what virtue the day
has lost to that darkness.
But like the gravity that dips the bellface
of a flower to a rippling stream, there is
that too which is unseen, uniting a man to
the breast of God's providence.
It is when the morning sounds her song that
I remember the things of my youth. It is
then that I can see myself chasing the
play of swallows from limb to chantry-limb,
patching my heart to a lavender sky.
It is then that I know that the night is
not so powerful as to deem me spent of will.
Poetry by kenneth wertz
Read 568 times
Written on 2007-03-03 at 17:01
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