Canticle at Twilight

by John Herlihy

In the evensong of one's day,

In the evening song of one’s life,

The stillness of twilight as prayer,

Nature’s liturgy sings of end of day

As the setting sun darkens its glow,

I shall set my sights on the horizon.

Imagining all worlds that lie beyond, 

Sitting quietly on that fragile edge. 

I hear softly tolling bells of a village near,

Echoing a canticle of twilight at day’s end.

Softly, gently, the day will take its leave,

Not an end, but a bleeding as if to grieve.

There before me a blazing conflagration, 

Simmering slowly to smoldering embers.

Soon there lie but ashes around my feet,

Little specks of shadow in the dying light.

The night envelopes me – I see no more,

Wrapped in a blanket of eternal darkness. 

Mercifully, the day is not all that there is,

Nor is the beloved night all that there is.

Poets call this moment ‘between breaths’,

Between the exhalation of this our world.

And the near inhalation of this our spirit,

The moment when all of life simply stops.

Time itself put on pause between graces,

Between breaths – between heartbeats.

The empty spaces between forever filled,

The wayward, willful heart forever stilled.

The soul gathers itself to breathe anew,

The canticle of twilight has now ended.

Stars appear as diamond dust on a field,

Dusting night with the mystery of light.

When behold, awakening from slumber, 

The moon climbs wearily over the edge.

To bless the night with its mystical glow,

Shining down upon every blade of grass.

Twilight listens to the canticle of vespers,

To touch hearts with thought of eternity.

Psalms of silence sung by nature’s choir,

Who listens closely but this humble friar.

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Copyright © John Herlihy

Thursday 31 December 2025