There is comfort in darkness,
It makes very little demands.
Some feel unease in darkness,
But it makes no reprimands.
Darkness harbors no protection,
Deep sleep is its only real escape.
In the ether, something roams;
It is called the sweet scent of night.
It arrives unannounced with rain.
The silence of the night is broken,
By the lion’s voice of rain’s roar.
Muddy puddles quickly accumulate,
Later to reflect moonlight and stars.
When the rain stops, silence returns,
To allow peaceful darkness to appear,
Drawn from the thickness of the night.
Shortly after the meridian of midnight,
The moon lulls the world into dreams.
The night stretches out like a lazy cat,
Swallowing everyone in its deep maw.
The curtain is lifted as darkness glows,
Where night's thief goes, nobody knows.
There is a surreal sense of peace in this work. Too often, one is reminded of the evil lurking in the dark, but here, the respect and love of the darkness is perfectly expressed. Bravo.
Once in a while I think of borrowing your pen but that would be stealing lol, loved your calligraphy this morning John, I love the night and all that in encompasses. I also love the 5am rummages, they are the best. Sun moon and stars what else is there, that cleaves the soul just so. Have a wonderful day keep writing and I promise to keep reading, xo
Robin Ouzman Hislop's poetry is certainly in dialogue with some of the key architects of the 'poetics of indeterminacy' – both the Modernist strands represented by the likes of Beckett and Stein, and the postmodernist strands represented, initially,
Love ya!
Jane
So rich is the darkness of veil!
Ah! the cat content. Enjoyed!
Lady Mary Ann
you hit the mark.
Illuminating the night,
it was lovely and "dark."