To Heal A Vacant Heaven
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The gods awoke early that day,
For the sun had swallowed the moon
And left a ragged, gaping wound in the sky.
It bled darkness like cold oil,
Threatening to stain all that they had labored to create,
Not the least of which, humankind,
Had yet to suck a breath
Or betray its common senses.
What of Byzantium, they pondered?
The horizon still ached for sails,
But to weave an empty sky was doom,
Even for the regal bateaus of Valhalla.
Breach the canopy, they thought,
Sew the temporal seam with threads of divine intent ...
Net the stars like silver herring
And bind them to the gunwales en masse.
Grave the hulls on the cosmos,
And set the sextant to unholy dreams ...
The day be damned, it would end nonetheless,
And tomorrow would still come ... sail on!
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Standard Contest Number 145 Any Form" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
Copyright © Gregory R Barden | Year Posted 2018