poetry

The Light is Constantly Whispering

I have looked inside a million portals
Out each a beautiful whisper

Saying it is you, it is you
Who must find beauty
standing full
Among leaves of artifice
and words of wrath
and even acts so foul
that spirit shrinks
...because...

By drawing down
the shades of violence
we begin the bloody night
mare galloping blindly
trapped in a cage
rent by the Age
Just words on a page?
Then comes the knight
to ride the steed
meet the need
Rescue the mere

As the rise of dawn
destroys without question
the peace of night
So it is I who must see
the heart of the unknown
the precious jewel
reflected in limitless form

The knight is I
as is the mare
words in my heart, words on my face