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Poem

The sleep of reason quells my fears away
From doubt, and lifts my mind upon the wings
Of carelessness, well sheltered on my way
To places where no man or ghost may sing,
    Where all humanity is mute as stone
    Or chained to ignorance: a wretched drone. 

Unmoved I lie and rest while, all around
My secret grotto, winds may blow and die
Upon the summits clad in ice, oft bound
For other trails of time, where many sigh
    In secret envy of my quiet home,
    Where calm and comfort linger all alone. 

No other life endures on high, though, in a cleft
Upon the mountain’s rib, a strange and humble plant
Has found a trough where rain drops fall bereft
Of love, while waiting for green leaves which can’t
    Abide the laws of night, and rather pine
    To die and live anew upon the crested line. 

Beneath, the storm and clouds enshroud the scene
And never let one sound disturb the white
Solemnity of snow, whose bright flakes seem
To live and die like us, in the plain sight
    Of sun or moon rays, under stars
    Whose endless swarm all other beauty mars. 

At last, I breathe the wintry air below
The frozen crown of endless solitude,
Inwrought with fragile pearls which grow
And spread across in listless multitude,
    As if within a sea shell where the sand
    Is well protected from the ocean’s hand. 

Between the rock and air there’s no divide
To tear my spirit down, to dare me keep
My eyes upon the ground, upon the side
Of life whence knowledge cannot leap
    Into the space below me, far more vast
    Than any precipice where faithless hope is cast. 

Find my poems and published poetry volumes at www.eton-langford.com

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