darkness
O how beautiful
how beautiful are the feet
of him who dwelleth in darkness
for he and he alone
is given knowledge of the multitude of the faces of the lord
behold he is made unto a virgin hart
and rushes among the waves of the bountiful rivers
and fresh plains
thus saith the lord
darkness has his canny way
to make things beautiful
while light displays
all the world’s ugliness
in hateful detail
I sink in hesitant freefall
freefalling through this tasteless odourless backthick honey
running through the void the silence echoing everywhere
my humours mingled like sour pumpkin soup
rotten pure
pure rot
darkness in her cold numb embrace
keeps me safe from good and ill
safe from you until you’re gone
and both our lives plod sadly on
(no, no
not sadly
sadly’s just
poetic license
better at any rate
than poetic
silence)
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