Sunday, April 20, 2014

Only night could explain


Only night could explain what he saw.
A faint pattern, half-imagined, far off, in a high-up dome.
Like a dream newly sown, sailing for dawn.
No mast, no rigging, a child at the helm.

The ship sailed on.

Great was his faith in the child.
Sweet her voice like a bell.

The timbers groaned.
The child smiled.

The dream was home.

Only night could explain what he saw.
A faint pattern, half-imagined, far off, in a high-up dome.

And the child — he was sure now — leading the sun.



2 comments:

Joseph Hutchison said...

This is purely wonderful, William. A poem with plenty of space to walk around in....

William Michaelian said...

Thanks, Joe....