|Perhaps you want a
moment for reflection|
Or a glimpse of someone's struggles with
Even greyhounds need a clear, still light
To bring them to the precipice of night.
Rest here, then, where joys and sorrows blend;
Yearning needs no goal and has no
Be like a bell, and
let me be your tongue:
Your thoughts will toll when I've your passions
Nor can I know what
words will strike your ears:
In poems one's life transfigures what one
Clear words contain a silence still as glass,
Horizons as remote as distant brass,
Old meanings darting luminous in pools
Like light caught in the blaze of well-cut jewels.
All this exists like sound without a bell;
So be its instrument, and listen
Give my poems
the courtesy of space;
Often they need room to show their grace.
Reason works quite wonderfully by day;
Darkness must be grasped another way.
On you the moon, with muted, mirrored beams,
Now casts its lace of memories and
Copyright by Nicholas Gordon