My heart I bequeath you O’ stillness of my universe I bequeath you my sanity Spreading this cloak of being in your dust I bow to your twinkling stars To the waxing sun and scented grass I bow to your springing rivers To the parched grain and blossoming flowers I bow to the warmth of my lover And want of my beloved I bow to your saccharine figs And honeyed nectar in chalice filled I bequeath my mortality to your transiency Blinded by this light in game of ruse Into your cohesiveness, I fuse In blinkers to win the race Espying a king in glass Presage of being a slave
Yet when darkness falls I furl my cloak and solemnly rise For I bow not then To your barren fields and waning suns I bow not to your garish colors, To the cloying drupe and wilted blossoms Bracing my feeble transience With my tenet and trail of faith I bow to the King of kings; Whilst I beseech for emanating hope, In my tigers clasp, my God’s rope I beseech, Till the noise becomes music again And as I gaze in the glass now, All I espy is a beseeching slave
True, the brightest light casts the darkest shadow but it is in darkest that brightest embers can be found. "Inside the womb, silence whispers; Darkness wombs the light Raging storms give birth to light"
Our fate is storm, We are the light We are the raging storm