METANOIA

I

In Night's shimmering silence accoutred,

reposed in a jewelled pause,

she sought a portent of golden hours

upon the horizon, of wondrous revelation

upon burnished paths.

Through blind mists of forgotten Seasons,

the absent Moon rose

into her pining spirit, that first receptacle

of Life's supreme benefactions,

beaming nacrescent rays

through her every strand, plane and pore.

Ocean and ether, struck breathless, gazed

upon an unwonted vision,

upon a goddess of the sky some mystical

device had brought into corporeal being.

An insomnolent merlin, unaccustomed to

Day's beauty in Dark's domain,

halted his wheeling, as though pinned to

lofty currents by pearly darts,

his cry of awe riving the resting waters,

drawing her eye to Ariadne's crown

in the sand-stippled ink of the shallow.

II

Upon that silver moment, the young mystic

beheld an argent stream

in the spangled brine, infolding,

coiling into Earth's venter, as though she

were womb and mother of

that distant coronal glow.

The very air tasted of stars, no more mere

celestial orbs, but kin to Destiny,

her eternal votaries and vehicles,

keepers of her clock, mirrors of our souls.

Aye, every twinkling point of light holds

the vastness we would seek within, a vastness

that expands, evolves, into the space

betwixt the faraway fire and the inner flame,

dissolving boundaries of dust and flesh,

of mind and thought, that our beings might

assume its radiance.

A sparkling tear she shed into the shallow,

a saline drop aswell with her inmost joy,

for her reflection wore a divinity's ornament,

a coronet of stars, a halo of starlight.

© 2016 Lily's Verse

Lilium Candidum

Image: CORONA BOREALIS

Source: twitter.com