Wings Of Dusk
The sprawling limbs of nation lie obscure
In shadow softly dark and darkly pure,
But seldom subject to the world’s regard;
A realm awakens to the scattered shards
Of light embedded in the wings of dusk.
Banal dominions of the day are made
Into an otherworldly moonlit glade,
Within whose bosom every man is king;
And from the earth at every corner springs
The manna to rejuvenate the soul.
A child of midnight from the darkling womb
Whose gaze deciphers the exquisite gloom,
The moon and stars resplendent in your eyes;
And all that once was tame and feeble dies
As this chimera from the dusk is born.
Ian Stewart Black 