Vision
by Lynne Dhenson (hycnthblue@aol.com)
Archive: On m_a, please.
Categories: Poetry, Point of View, Drama
Rating: PG
Spoilers: none
Summary: A little musing at a late hour.
Notes: Severe writer's block struck during the composing of
this one, and it sat idle for a number of weeks before I could
even attempt to get it going again. I've probably only once or
twice before had a poem go through so many revisions--by the
time I finished this, the only thing that remained of the first
draft was the final line you see here (which was located then,
of course, somewhere near the beginning...).
Feedback: Any and all comments most welcome.
Disclaimer: SW:TPM's characters are George Lucas', and very
emphatically not mine.
Vision
Come take my hand, and softly then to bed;
the night is turning, and the day past done:
the evening has all its twilight shed,
hushed moons have gently ushered out the sun,
and stars lie nestled in their velvet sky.
Stop here a moment, let me look at you:
your hair glints gold, and shadow-hints imply
the silent curving of your lips; the hue
of your bright gaze defies description. When
I first confessed my love four days ago,
I thought no greater wonder could again
appear than that you echoed it--but know
this, my beloved: I have quickly learned
that each hour still more miracles await.
Old sibilant regrets are overturned
by fresh beliefs; your truths illuminate
my own, and cast them into clear relief:
You breathe and dream for me, and I for you.
I am the withered branch called back to leaf;
you are the rising dawn that makes all new,
and henceforth naught shall ever be the same.
It grows late, and the day is long past done.
Come, douse your study-lamp; shut off the flame;
extinguish all the candles, one by one.
I have examined my rewritten creed,
and found my one because amid the whys:
I need no other light by which to read
the thousand sonnets stirring in your eyes.
Archive