Tuesday, March 10, 2009

night's nave upsoaring

in the arch of a reed, intimations of a whole bent under the weight of the elements.

so is the whole of a life.

even when bent, it retains its beauty.


gaunt in gloom,
the pale stars their torches,
enshrouded, wave.
ghostfires from heaven's far verges faint illume,
arches on soaring arches,
night's sindark nave.

the lost hosts awaken
to service till
in moonless gloom each lapses muted, dim,
raised when she has and shaken
her thurible.

and long and loud,
to night's nave upsoaring,
a starknell tolls
as the bleak incense surges, cloud on cloud,
voidward from the adoring
waste of souls.

james joyce from "pomes penyeach"

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