Starfire Gluts My Sight
I’ve quit the bonds of purpose,
Adopted by the night,
The welkin dome my holy tome,
The astral gloam my stately home,
And starfire gluts my sight.
I’ve spent my every fibre,
In racing up to God,
Lifting things by holy wings,
Raising kings by sacred strings,
And deathward now I plod.
I’ve talked with phantom people—
The ghosts hid in the walls,
I’ve listened slow while stories flow,
Bereft I know the shapes of woe;
I greet my maker’s calls.
Heaven’s invitation,
A hand dropped from above,
A timely cue from gods I knew,
A slow canoe into the blue;
A pathway knit with love.
I’ve quit the body’s burning,
And jumped into the sky,
I’ve quit the den of mortal men,
Just like the wren flown o’er the fen,
And like the moon I die.
I’ve sojourned to Olympus,
To know a different guise,
With nectar sweet a heady treat,
With feathered feet in movement fleet,
I fly again and rise.
I’ve quit the pain of living,
And raced to meet the stars,
In spectral light I claim the night,
In sheer delight I take my flight,
To reverie with Mars…
ADL
adamdaniel 