The Silent Kingdom’s Gentle Embrace
Down where the cypress trees cease their singing,
And the sun-wrought chariots are known no more,
A velour quietude is slowly clinging,
To the chalcedony marble shore.
Here, the silver Lethe murmurs, slow and deep,
A lullaby to souls who wish to sleep.
No longer do I chase the fleeing day,
No longer do I fight the golden light,
For I have found the shades of quiet gray,
That anchors the everlasting night.
O, softest fall, more gentle than the dew,
That rests upon Persephone’s soft bed,
Here in this solemn, silver-shadowed view,
Where all the hasty, thrashing thoughts are dead.
The helmet of the King is set aside,
To watch the slow and silent shades abide.
No fear can enter through the granite gates,
Where poppies grow in fields of endless hush,
Only the peaceful, tranquil waiting waits,
Without a clamor or a sudden rush.
The air is cool, a breath of quiet stone,
That soothes the burning forehead of the mind,
I leave the weight of standing all alone,
And leave the restless, warring winds behind.
Here, where the soul is safe, from sorrow free,
Wrapped in the calm, unmoving dark, I lie,
The silent King smiles directly at me,
Beneath the vast and starry-hearted sky.
And in this sleep, the soul begins to know,
That darkness is the sweetest, quiet friend,
A noiseless river that does softly flow,
With peace and dream-filled silence at the end.
There is a grandeur in this cold, still deep,
Where nothing stirs, and nothing dares to scream,
A slow, profound, and monumental sleep,
Can wash away the memory of a dream.
I fall, I drift, into the tranquil void,
Where shadows dance in slow and steady time,
Where every anxious fragment is destroyed,
And all the darkness flows in gentle rhyme.
It is the welcome rest, the final rest,
The softest, deepest, desired release,
A quiet, silent, and forgotten quest,
That leaves the weary traveler at peace.
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