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Dea Tacita

She comes forth

like waves slipping over

the sand

again and again

delivered from darkness

coveting the light

 

And light is her signature.

A conundrum.

Light erasing light.

How can this be?

 

I will tell you.

 

Light is the companion

of the dark

trips joyfully in its shadows

 

And this dance

weaves a potent tale

of a two-faced goddess

one face peering intently into the dark

one lit by the morning sun

 

Yet darkness rules the day

hastens the twilight

gives measure to the

dimming

and finally

captures the last of the light

in a sea green bottle

 

We are drawn into that night

valiantly

or not

weeping for lost opportunities

or not

but at the end

waltzing into the unknown

 

Yet I do not suppose

darkness without light

according to my theology

a life that ends in simple extinction

cannot be

it is a null set

 

The fundamental equations

do not permit it

nor can my simple mind

fathom such depths

 

So in my dotage

I repair to wine and song

to ease the pain

of these uncertainties

and then to poetry

to catalog the human condition

and leave a trace

that yet might sparkle

in the instant of my demise

Request permission to use this poem
Written by
jeff-stier
Published
Apr 30, 2017
Lines·Words
52·202
Notes

Dea Tacita was a Roman goddess of the dead. The Silent Goddess.

Permission

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