In the Dark Shadows (The Awakening)
In the dark shadows of my own making,
Like a cold, windless niche in a stone cathedral,
I walk beside a reflection of truth,
A midnight soul, seeing a self — denying a self.
And in that place, I build a fortress retreat.
Then, like some dart from a Promethean bow,
I am struck down by simplicity;
Truth until by the cathedral’s deep dark ivy growth;
Like a new born fawn coming to the river,
Seeing a new reflection; true self.
And the warm wind from two brown eyes do tell;
And quickly the leaves begin to toss in the woodland groves;
All is sunlight and radiant.
How is this radiance?
It comes from a midnight soul.
It plays in the runnels, is filtered by bowers.
It lights memory and replays in variations.
It turns old hatred to love.
It sates intemperate passions;
Anguish drifts to sand.
The fortress crumbles under its thunderous weight,
And I am free of it.
The sea cleanses me naked under the starry sky
Vaulted with knowledge of the first star I see;
And like great wine, I am poured from one vessel into another,
From one of stone to one cut from the starry night.
I fly with the wind, the gentle softness of my own nature
And fall in love with myself,
A self without reflection.
I catch the glint of guilt and dry the stream of tears;
Tears forgotten now.
Forgiven now, as I come to the river of my self to drink;
A new born fawn lapping her reflection in a sunlit pool.
Edward C. Patterson
The Closet Clandestine http://www.amazon.com/dp/1438220502 (Paperback)