Darkness breathes in voice which night has choked,
whispered words where silence sucks at strength,
denied the depth and substance of the dreaming day;
stretched out across the hours as evening dress.

In collared tightness does time hold the throat of reason,
where vision cannot brief the roaming mind,
and spectral shapes emerge and disappear;
that place between the worlds where mystery hides.

To see beyond the blind eyes of belief and thought,
move further from the mere material known,
does raise the senses to embrace pure meaning;
eternity connected, where all can now be shown.

About rosross

Editor, writer, poet.
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