Swept up to the path of moon chilled air
Above the mountains of clouds
To see what only has been dreamed
To seek what has been sought
In pallets mixed only
With earth drawn media
The dream revealed
The secret yet contained
Lying in wait
For the seeker's return
Each shade, each tone, each tint
Revealed before
Was but a prelude
To this last proof of the divine
To call it midnight is but a bewildered seekers word
To evoke comparison
The moon was there its glory
Reflected in boundless mosaics
Of shimmering movement
Not the singular heavenly glow of other midnights
When the sun awakens
The new midnight
Reveals a peculiar dimension
Of its magnificence.
A deep and pure memory
Of a life now forgotten
Of a dream ever there
Jan 6, 2011
Jan 6, 2011 at 2:48 PM UTC
Swept up to the path of moon chilled air
Above the mountains of clouds
To see what only has been dreamed
To seek what has been sought
In pallets mixed only
With earth drawn media
The dream revealed
The secret yet contained
Lying in wait
For the seeker's return
Each shade, each tone, each tint
Revealed before
Was but a prelude
To this last proof of the divine
To call it midnight is but a bewildered seekers word
To evoke comparison
The moon was there its glory
Reflected in boundless mosaics
Of shimmering movement
Not the singular heavenly glow of other midnights
When the sun awakens
The new midnight
Reveals a peculiar dimension
Of its magnificence.
A deep and pure memory
Of a life now forgotten
Of a dream ever there