I wake in bed, 'neath twisted sheets,
full throated sings the thrush
and with it, the scrape of knotted
twigs, scratching at my window-pane,
which doubtless served to bring me
up, from that release of dreamless
sleep.
I turn my head upon the pillow,
hoist me up the patchwork quilt,
but struggle how I may in lust
of the peerless prize of sleeps
recapture, I end, as well perhaps,
I might have known, with naught
to show but bated breath, and rest
lost, in want recalled.
Throwing off the strangling sheets,
pushing back the weighted quilt,
I rise, abandon hope of sleep,
shiver, in the morning's chill;
the dawns of Spring as
Winters days.
I move to light a candle,
watch the flickering flames arise,
draw up a chair to the window,
set the candle at my side. I
sit there, dreaming wakeful,
mind weary, gone, astray, as
the minutes pass in silence,
and the hours slip away.
At length, as long I lie there,
reclined in soulful apathy,
lost in boundless sympathy
as to the state of self and Being,
I rouse myself, and stir, eyes
red, begrimed and straining,
for I sense a subtle lessening,
in the aura of the dark.
Then at last, as I sit watching,
I and the herald thrush, at
last, oh long awaited! the
gleam of the dawning Sun.
I rise and gaze in gladness,
tears welling at the brim,
for it seems to me I never saw
more splendid a sight than
this; sublime, celestial
vision, balm to my hearts
desire.
I move towards the door,
all weariness forgotten,
push back the latch and
turn, forward in the
lambent dawn.
I stand amidst the sunlight,
golden gleam effulgent,
and all the dew-drops
glittering, resplendent in
the shine.
I marvel to myself in awe,
at the magnitude of
the world, as if the
colors' cool irradiance,
or the fragrance of
the vernal dawn,
were not but seeming
new, but were, verily
new-made in glory,
set to lighten paradise,
for the coming of
Thoughts firstborn.
I breathe deep, in and out.
Thoughts clear I gaze,
out still, amidst the reaching
light, yearning ever to glimpse,
into the heart of the Sun,
and see there, as I know I
shall, the patterns of eternity,
Imprinted upon my eyes
and memory, full-writ
in endless time, before descends
the final black.
At last, I sit, back straight,
against the old and ivied wall.
Eyes farseeing, gaze lost,
beyond the reach of mind
and men, I waver not, from
that point of infinity, lost to
the horizon, and yet near,
so near...I am lost, adrift,
in a golden sea of light,
and of nothingness,
which is everything,
and eternity.
Lost, amidst the bright expanse;
peace, in endless change.
And I sleep, amidst the
dawning light, at last,
in blissful solitude;
and my soul is far,
and gone from me,
gone, within the fractals
of infinity, and in the
sempiternity of joy,
and of endless light;
for a moment,
and for forever,
in Time.
These are my spiritualities, my convictions, such as they are, unpolished yet, of the universe, and of the soul, and of God, and Time. Comment, if you will. Thank you, if you have read this through, to the end. Thank you, with all my heart.
