I am the N of emerging night
with jewels for the dance of soul,
in darkness are freckles of light
to hold a prayer, to wake the fire,
as net on clouds imbue what’s brave
when all but silence rakes the sky
and in this space, the truth so intense
stirring the heart without defense.
But somehow, twilight breaks into dawn
spilling new dewdrops to taste
fresh mist of hope, rising and billowing
sinless as white stars of hours before
blessing courage of N’s emerging night.
by nette onclaud
for Nancy Jones’ Alphabet Soup