Perfect Fabric of Peace
The long, motionless hours of night;
a nod, a blink or deep breath away from
a new day's noise and bustle.
Modern life, soon enough, will secure
its grip on each of us.
Many prefer the reticent solitude offered
in darkness. Never more than visitors there,
we still yearn for the placid serenity of the night.
The remnant of a night breathes evenly. Here,
there are moments when nature makes no commentary.
Man, animal, and machine all mute.
Those waking early hope to seize these
taciturn moments, holding them, savoring
their purity to soothe against the growling
noise and stress of daily life.
Cool, hushed wisps of air wash over these moments
and anyone still sleeping. Those already awake are
embraced in the tranquility. They can touch the
palpable stillness found in fleeting moments of time.
Some will feel nearly transcendent, while remaining
in the moment. Spirits immersed.
A reverie in synchronism.
In the brief interval which is a night, souls hang
suspended between the muted hour and the
commotion of a hectic life. Soon, the rising sun
will adjourn the laconic spirits of a night.
The taciturn and atoning moments recede,
but their commendation upon the soul remains.
Hearts momentarily warmed and comforted by
the perfect fabric of peace, new from nature's loom.
Copyright © Brian Baumgarn | Year Posted 2015
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
to post a comment