In This Twilight Hour
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In this twilight hour,
I labor by the soft fire,
To capture in breathing symbols.
All the sorrows of the ages:
Minor chords out of sync
With these ecstatic times.
In this twilight hour,
I long to create a lexicon
For the lost world of the heart;
Not for the routine applause
Of indifferent crowds;
Nor for crude ambition.
In this twilight hour,
Dream-visions come in waves,
Like an alien god,
Set adrift in space and time.
And consciousness runs
Like a celestial river.
In this twilight hour,
The deadening life
Is briefly suspended.
Then ever so slowly,
Out from the ether,
Image and form emerge.
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