The Fulfilment
The shadows descend in a velvet embrace,
To swallow the sun and dismantle the day,
And night, like a priestess of silence and space,
Extends a dark chalice of silver and gray.
I stand at the lip of this hollow profound,
Where starlight is poured like a shimmering wine,
And loose from my spirit, without any sound,
The loops and the coils that the daylight confined.
I filled the night’s chalice with knots of desire,
With tangles of wishes too wild for the sun,
With cords made of hunger and ribbons of fire,
All twisted and braided and deftly spun.
Each knot is a secret, a promise, a plea,
A lock of a passion that refuses to break,
A pattern of all that I long for to be,
Cast into the cup for the darkness to take.
The first is a tether of memory and bone,
The ache of a hand that I once used to hold,
A grief that has hardened to beautiful stone,
A story that never was properly told.
I drop it down deep where the shadows are thick,
It sinks like an anchor through currents of air,
While memory burns like a narrowing wick,
And leaves only incense and longing down there.
The next is a knot of a future unknown,
A tangle of hope that is sharp as a blade,
The seeds of a garden that never was grown,
The drafts of a kingdom that never was made.
It twists with ambition, it pulses with fright,
A maze of tomorrow, a labyrinth of gold,
I drop it into the wide throat of the night,
To let the vast quietness watch it unfold.
And deeper they fall, these intricate ties,
Of love that is lawless and wild as the sea,
Of questions that look to the unmoving skies,
Of all that I am and all I wish to be.
The chalice accepts them, the vessel is vast,
It drinks down the tension, the pull, and the strain,
Absorbing the future, consuming the past,
And soothing the throb of an intimate pain.
The cup is now brimming with silver and ash,
With interwoven dreams that are heavy and deep,
Where currents of passion silently clash,
Before they are drowned in the ocean of sleep.
The knots are all cast, and the fabric is spun,
The chalice is heavy with all I require,
And there I shall leave them, until the new sun,
Dissolves every thread of my knotted desire.
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