Above me, stars. Beneath me, constellations.
Still, endless, haunted by the dark.
I have passed by the watchman on my
Evening stroll, unwilling to explain
Why God does not leave us.
Still, endless, haunted by the dark.
And now far off in the fragrant
Darkness I see him,
falling,
falling,
And further still at an unearthly height.
Still, endless, haunted by the dark.
Mar 11, 2014
Mar 11, 2014 at 10:05 PM UTC
Above me, stars. Beneath me, constellations.
Still, endless, haunted by the dark.
I have passed by the watchman on my
Evening stroll, unwilling to explain
Why God does not leave us.
Still, endless, haunted by the dark.
And now far off in the fragrant
Darkness I see him,
falling,
falling,
And further still at an unearthly height.
Still, endless, haunted by the dark.
This poem is a composition of other artists' lines, from poems I read in my poetry class. The assignment was to take lines or phrases from three poems about night and include words of your own in order to form a poem.
