LIGHT

Night's commiserations merge
with the vast unseen.
Her dying embers drizzle opals
upon thirsty leaves,
for dawn's stifling splendour
blinds, oppresses, flays.

Venerations, condolences, all
spoken in unknown tongues,
retreat, fearful of day's illusions,
of power's utterances, 
of victory marches of brute force.

Light shirks the day
that would wilfully embrace
Dark.

The burden of your message
escapes me, father. You speak
of flesh to one who has only ever
been skin and bone.

You wish for my spectral heart
to beat? Could you
constrain time and command it,
bid it do your will?

Your hands tremble, your voice
quavers, as you enunciate
hope and redemption, mere words
your truthless tones besmirch.

Your light is your chosen prison,
a Fata Morgana above your
bleakness, condemning you to a
thousand deaths in life.

Yes, I live and breathe and bleed
in your dark, but I see and speak
in the Light.

© 2014 Lily's Verse
Lilium Candidum

Image: MEDITATION
Source: commons.wikimedia.org
Artist: William-Adolphe Bouguereau