LUX IN TENEBRIS
Habituated to the tenebrous,
Accustomed to the shadows of the night,
My sleep-dazed eyes awake to a blunt spear
Of moonlight hurled against the pillowcase.
I go to the window, with blinds open wide,
And upward look, upon a lucent throng
Of stars, the million brilliant distant suns
Around whose fires revolve unnumbered planets.
What keeps them on their track around the light?
What dexterous Prestidigitator’s skill
Fixes the path of moon, of earth … of man?
Supreme intelligence or happenstance?
Genesis or a crapshoot? — Four o’clock.
Is it too soon to make a pot of coffee?
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[A poem penned as participation in the poetry pastime parented, propagated, and perfected by Enbrethiliel.]
question: are you afraid of the dark?