The darkened rim
Of the witless world
Is on fire.
No one may save me
From this
Silent conflagration,
This baptismal hush:
Love
For this moment,
Speechless awe,
Turning wonder;
i dance
In the vanishing dark
Like a fool
While, all around me,
Sensibility sleeps.
For you
My eyes
Will never close
My mind
Will never stop conjuring.
As morning rears up
And our brief business
Resumes,
i will shoulder the wheel
And strain toward
The promise of peace,
But i will never
Be more grateful
Than now,
Even as peace,
That shy ghost,
Disappears
From my grasp...
--Mr. Gobley
3 comments:
Mr. Gobley, are you kidding? I got four hours of sleep last night and I've got songs running maddeningly through my head.
Ah, well, friend Richard: your problem with sleep is that you got four hours too many.
(i had to erase my previous comment: i mistyped when i fell asleep at my computer ...)
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