How The Night Speaks

How the Night Speaks Ah! the night speaks; speaks, yes, so said the ancient Anchorite the cave here on its walls is a film of images of all the history of the world this night without watching, I dream see the images the sub-conscious glows burning. Because the night speaks. How Silence Speaks In the pool a hidden hand threw a stone and it was night long, long past dusk of red: and the circles swelled swelled in the pool without a sound. Verse and the Tomb Verse and tomb gloom and dread fear and calm An Angel with a sword in his loins stood by all night The Monument on the Tomb Marble monuments shone blue and white and trembling azure light for there was moon and there was night. A Spirit with sad eyes He watched and Stared vacant In the ashen night In the moving wind A Spirit with tears In the eyes Silent embraced With one hand The monument on the tomb Then When the first gray of Dawn Began to smile Its way in to the Earth And skies He kissed the monument The monument on the tomb. And vanished. Ashes to Ashes Ashes to ashes spoke The morning was so rote so tired so bleak and dread life be so; we humans bend our heads so often. skeletons to skeletons spoke in rains and tempests their teeth chattering. their heads of holes left the moon lit pass through the drum of night in the distant end of the cemetery louder a little by midnight subsided by three in the morning by above flying things chattering the trees the moon the stars the night ah! ashes to ashes speak of black and ashes.