“Good night,” they say to one another;
Two love birds postpone a return
To which the dark takes to cover,
Where all transposed lack concern.
Shrouded by sky’s invisible cloak;
The veil of a winged rodent
On a path unknown and uncertain,
For the night is good at its game:
Teasing the blind and tricking the lame
In knowing what is uncertain.
A wish to draw back the curtain;
A loss equal in victory’s wake.
Speak of wake! Take on time!
With clad fist around silver dime.
Erroneous hands at ten and two
Where time has stopped and made a fool of you.
Ever so close to heaven’s blazes
Alluring, transfixed stares in the dark
Across lonely, dim corners, small stages;
Beacons of hope, nothing less than stark.
Gravel-filled bricks lay at rest
As Past whispers silence spent
From eerie fields of those kept
Six feet under; to the night they lent.
Auspicious winds mutter sounds
Of thy own accord, in ears found
By Amazing Grace — !
You could not be found…