Eternal Midnight

Eternal midnight fills the endless plain Of reason lost where passion dares not go And where absolving dreams must die or feign Unnatural distress at winter’s blow. The eyelids of the wise are sown with grief To save slow mankind from the truth of night, And then renew the pledges of the thief Or to divine the outcome of his fight. No matter where the seed of day is borne By winds of mindless changes wrought by time, Its soul of stone dies slowly, though it’s torn From leafless trees to clean the earth of grime. The stronghold of the helpless claims, at last, All never-seen, long shadows as its own, As sly deceit begins to haunt the vast, Dry empire of remembrance being sown. Tomorrow waits impatiently, while man Has little need or knowledge of its will, And all which toil can muster barely can Advance his cause, which surely counts for nil. Find my poems and published poetry volumes at www.eton-langford.com