the dying embers
crumbling into ash.
Alone we sit amidst the darkling wood
Watching infinity unfold in nameless forms and circumstance.
Wordlessly it cries and stealthily sneaks in upon the sleeper:
Bathed in cool white light is pleasure primeval, uncluttered and uncluttering.
Whence comes the Sun.
From out this myriad group of cosmic wanderers one is chosen:
The Elect to warm our Night-cooled souls.
But within that day doubt that the Night had been,
and would be,
are products of the light
in our eyes blinding.
Frightened, lights are built and walls to shut out the night.
Deny, denials compounded, confounded we wander.
Waiting for that Night we yearn for and detest.
Ages piled upon ages will see the last of walls crumble into embers.
Dusking clouds float over a lonely band
gathered 'round those glowing embers, falling into ash.
one by one her starry mantle reveals the Life so long despised and sought.
Eternity awaiting, beckons with a loving hand.
Night, decried as black
- without which no true Day is possible -
white with softest snowy banks
where the feast begins.
-- Benefactor Taciturnus
Images: top: Lone tree in the New Forest. Taken at sunset, between Stoney Cross and Fritham. (c) 2009 R J Higginson used under license.bottom: Center of the Milky Way Galaxy (c) 2008 Organisation for Astronomical Research in the Southern Hemisphere Stefan Gillessen, Reinhard Genzel, Frank Eisenhauer. Used under license.