Page: Profile: Poetry
||Total Views: 13,109,046
VxPoem ID: 11483
Posted: April 12th. 2005 11:26:25 PM
Age Group: Adult
The sun moves down
With a cold flare of light.
The Wyld grows dark:
The shadows leap eastward
As the paling light fades
Through memories, one by one.
A clamor of images
Mourn at the encroaching night.
Pale slate-grey clouds
Whirl up from the sinking sun.
And I am the wandering one,
The questive dreamer of dreams,
The eternal asker of questions,
I stand in the darkening wyld,
And lift my opened hands to Her
Grasping the first cold mists of rain.
The purpled lights raise and grow
Filling first the dales
Then topping the hills
For Her Glorious night
Has begun again.
I see Her people
I will ask once of each
I will ask them all their dreams,
I will hold Her above them
To enlighten their way
Brightening their faces.
I will hear their whispered secretes,
Held invisible in their very blood
I, the eternal asker of questions
Am as silent as a shadow,
Or as a hurricane wind blown
Over myriad memories,
Or as the many joined voices of
For her own peoples.
I hear Her and take Her to myself
Like a wind lost in the wyld,
Like the faded tune of a melody
I have heard somewhere
I run through the trees
In a dazzle of pallid moonlight,
I pour myself out in a wave to Her,
I clamber up Her stair,
With laughter and cries of joyous recombining,
And upon Her murmured word;
I flow upwards, I ascend.
Author's Location: toronto, Ontario
More Poems: Flac has posted 41 additional poems- View them?
Author's Profile: To learn more about Flac - Click HERE
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