The Darkening of the Light, How Divine

Tis the hour whenst the light doth separate from the fabric of awakening

Giving way honorably to the forthcoming darkness and the time of dreams

Sharing cause to prompt the thoughts of thee and thine of endings divine

Now is the hour to gather fading imagery of the day and prepare for the night

Verily I say, one must admire the fleeting moments assembled at this juncture

Such that each may be worthy of consideration, without a complimentary need

Alone they could posture in abject beauty, upon their worthy pedestals,

Yet as an ensemble, they present a symphony of interwoven perfection

The nobility of the tranquil sky and the spilling forth of radiant warmth,

Flannel-wrapped breezes that slip effortlessly across both flesh and foliage

Caressing the branches and grasses while enticing the buttercups and lavender

Shrugging shoulders of the mighty oaks and yews, holding spaces and places

Whilst those bearing wings find sanctuary from the screeches of midnight

Whispers echoing faintly across the hollows and valleys; crying a sweet tenderness

Calling out their warning; the finality of a performance and the curtain lowering

Nocturnal beasties of every imaginable shape and size slowly emerge and awaken

As the last light slips beyond the edge of the universe, the great sound of the owl

Sleep; and the opportune moment to gather visions and moments in dreamland

Night, how it does bringeth such a gathering of theatrics, players, and stages

Illumination splashes the treetops with a cool whiteness, nearing perfect clarity

And how glimmering and without the encumbrance of shadows do we see the stars

Hidden by the light half of the day, the curtain suddenly raised masterfully

No field of vision can widen to the breadth of the sparkling nightly canvas

Should the eyes of a gathered multitude all look skyward in unison; no matter

For sighted they may be, the limitations of mortality are beyond alteration

Nevertheless, nothing that was unfound can ever be considered something lost

And the enjoyment of a single gaze measure, doth give such sensual pleasure

Nature giveth thine eyes countless moments of sights similar but not repeated

We watch, if only for the enjoyment of the sight, and the thought of the encore

• Author
• Recent Posts

R J Schwartz

I write about everything and sometimes nothing at all.I'm fascinated by old things, rusty things, abandoned places, or anywhere that a secret might be unearthed.I'm passionate about history and many of my pieces are anchored in one concept of time or another.I've always been a writer, dating back to my youth, but the last decade has been a time of growth for me.I'm continually pushing the limitations of vocabulary, syntax, and descriptive phrasing.

Latest posts by R J Schwartz (see all)

• Immersion – Souls and Their Seeking - February 25, 2025
• So Many Words - January 1, 2025
• The Loving Peace of Christmas Noise - December 20, 2024