Oh how much time wasted!
Harboring feelings kept,
Behold the darkness through which my eyes have wept,
Awaiting Thy Grace,
In my pores it rests,
Consumes my soul with every breath.
The flames of Truth,
Penetrating, radiant,
I take Thou in and replenish my being,
From the Singular,
To the Spleen.
Behold! Thrice Great the Name,
Impart unto me the secrets of my hidden Presence,
Raise me as Prosperine from the depths of Hades,
Right to the Heart of Divine Essence.
In the vastness of my soul,
Implant within me a seed from that which sprouts my Home,
Your silver means make way to the Golden end,
Immerse me in this ocean that it may lend,
A passage through which I and the Ibis friend,
Hand in hand,
Step by step,
In the nooks and crooks,
In a spacetime bend.
Take me, guide me, lead me,
Into the Phi of existence,
Into Thine Grace I yearn to rest my head.
And again,
Darkness creeps,
With a thrill,
Yes until,
It ascends the three ladders of Death.
About the Creator
Nightingale
In writing, each letter becomes a symbol, each word a note, and each story the lyrics of a song to be sung to the rose.
More of my work under the pen name Nocturnea at:
www.triaprima.co
—— Nightingale
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