In my poetry I shall tell of the trials, woes, and joys—
To time yet unborn
;
Of sleep and death that lie ahead
and of strange music
As He beckons the world to his command,
In the haunting gloom of twilight—.
Somewhere I lost my passing grace, and there you stood—
Thou deadliest face
;
For a time: to tell the hearts unrest: in mercies unconfused
As He beckons the world to his command,
In the haunting gloom of twilight—.
To whom the unceasing fires belong (an inviolable heart)—
Numbered is thy consequence
;
A hymn, He hums: trembles the evening—of frozen flesh
As he beckons the world to his command,
In the haunting gloom of twilight—.
Silent I turn from time, that holds dominion over all—
As Orion’s sword passes by
;
Gives way to the Devils hostile Firmament: warfare
As He beckons the world to his command,
In the haunting gloom of twilight—.
Unarmed, He and I stand (like mindless clay) in the sun—
Awaiting the darkness
;
A sacrificial past for him, over Orion’s distinct sword
As He beckons the world to his command,
In the haunting gloom of twilight—.