Starfire Gluts My Sight
I’ve quit the bonds of purpose,
Been 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,
Gladly racing up to God,
Uplifting things by holy wings,
And raising kings by sacred strings,
And deathward now I plod.
I’ve talked with phantom people—
All 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,
Aye, 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 dissolved 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,
Fore 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 flown up to meet the stars,
In spectral light I claim the night,
In sheer delight I take my flight,
To reverie with Mars…
ADL
adamdaniel 