Dawn Was The Servant

Dawn Was The Servant long poem

Photo by James Jordan

The silence shattered like a crystal glass on a marble floor
And every splintered diamond shard glittered like a newborn dream,
As rising sun fingers trickled over them in blood red and gold contusions
Dawn was the servant who had dropped the glass, as she rose up again,
She wept a while, her tears dancing among her own crystalline moments
And for a brief spell, the world shone like a mirror image of heavenly joy,
As silence settled once more, into a torpid cloud whispered flame sky
That glowered over the restless wanderings of a newly painted sea.

Then shades of subtle mystery came drifting on a ghostly breeze
Although there was no-one to look up, there were those that looked down
In silken serenity, to script themselves over a newly wakened landscape
Where everything was bathed in the sensuous blinking eyes of life,
Sometimes in the mirrors of many there are the reflections of nothing
And yet every so often, a subtle cartouche shines in a lantern lit way
Down a shadow draped hall, dripping dreams of yesterday
That give cause to remember when a dream was still newborn.

And yet silence has an echo reminiscent of a hush that comes back home
To houses of apologetic prayer and extinguished candles of remembrance
That wait in the shade for a maudlin taper to let them shine again
So that the silence of before is replaced by spluttering reminiscences
And melting waxen candle cascades of liquid lattice shadowed images
That all too soon dissolve into psalms and shades of simple serendipity,
Those splintered shade filled shards of quietly nearing evensong
That wait with timeless patience on a marble floor, to wait another dawn..

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1 Comment on "Dawn Was The Servant"

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Savi Mani

Loved your poem, read and re-read it ……….good work, keep it up!!!!


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