I fear not that my words will never grace….
And yet I dread this fast approaching dawn;
I see the minutes and the hours pass;
For dawn is yet the only constant thing
That rips me so unkindly from my pace.
Though never is my reason thus forgone;
This Lighted Spectre haunts me–this Impasse–
This Waking Nightmare from beneath will spring.
Beneath the Earth this Pale Rider waits,
His Fiery Horses chafing; will have drawn
His Chariot’s Searing Livery–unsurpassed
In glory, any but Hyperion:
Shall stream His Burning Light; and gaining fast,
Will into Hypnos’ Waiting Arms, me cast.
This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:
Very nice! I like the couplet rhyme in the ending.
This does beautifully evoke the image I see each dawn as you try to wind down to your rest.
It appears to be happening again this morning, as well : (
Beautiful it is :)
I am glad you enjoyed it.