The aisle of eloquent whispers

July 11, 2004


Shackled silence of the night
Bear witness my solemn plight
On the summit of departed dreams detained,
By vast folds wild eagerness restrained.


By uncertain comfort kept,
I slept there.


A stern face,
Worn agony threadbare,
Aroused to passionate waking visions.
An hour elapses
Helpless prey
To grave figures
Who speak of duty.


The irksome months
And years
Grow strangely meant
At the failed zenith
Of a drawn out day.


Within me is a pledge
That can no longer bear
Unfulfillment, a glory
Not lost forever.
Who walks with me
Down this aisle
Of eloquent whispers?


The scarcely audible murmur of the sea:
“Venture not into the night,
Be called back before leaving.”