It is easy to lament the waning
To bemoan the conquest of light by night
We have made an art form of complaining
Worrying spawns masochistic delight
But we ought to consider things afresh:
Acknowledge the stark glow of the crescent
A means firmly to time's bright harvest thresh
The grinning horizon of the present
Made lucid, pressed by night's onyx gumline
The moon becomes too dark and firm to chew
Do not read the void's progress as decline
The dark has never had a point of view
Something does not perturb nothing for long
Silence swathes and makes audible the song
About the Creator
D. J. Reddall
I write because my time is limited and my imagination is not.
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Official Notice: Preservation of the Heart
Attention. This is an official notice to all residents of the inner landscape. Your heart requires daily inspection. Neglect may lead to quiet corrosion, unnoticed at first, creeping through thoughts like fog through a forest.
By Sound and Spiritabout 4 hours ago in Poets
Comments (4)
“We have made an art form of complaining” quite true, I’m afraid
"Worrying spawns masochistic delight", I especially loved that line!
I was going to quote some of my favourite lines and then realised the comments box would just be full of the majority of your sonnet. But I've gone for these two anyway: "Made lucid, pressed by night's onyx gumline/The moon becomes too dark and firm to chew" because I love the idea of them. So original. Do I really need to say it? I think this is my new favourite of yours. Deftly, deftly done.
How sublimely lovely. The final two lines are my favorite.