Above The Light Of The Morning Star

 

Pity the dark eyed man who chases sleep.

Yet, pity more, the man who finds that realm

and dances with his friends, long gone,

then wakes to find such loneliness in his heart.

 

A father’s hand laid gently on his shoulder

or a mothers kiss to say farewell on leaving.

These are the magic lanterns

of the ghosts that are their ghosts.

 

No fear here in the dark, nocturnal traps -

just longing for their presence once again

and knowing that the waking will be cold

as a winter’s embrace upon a frozen lake.

 

When the tender touch of sunrise intrudes

upon the reveries of sleep

they drift away like cobwebs

on an insistent, uncaring, breeze.

 

The dead, alive in somnolence

that too soon slips from fingers

grasping to touch them for a moment longer

as they return to their pretty lairs.

 

I have met with demons in this place

but go back for the pleasure

of spending time again

with familiar angels.

 

And when, I too, reside in this land of dreams

and drift with those fleeting phantoms,

I will wait for you to visit me

and take comfort before the light of the morning star..

 

 

NOTE: The title is taken from the final line in William Blake’s ‘The Land Of Dreams’

Painting by Svenja Gosen