Anthema Poems

Night Blues

Here I am in the dead of night
It is such a dead I smell the jasmines
From its corpse taking flight
And I am awake and strung with feelings
Pounding in my brain to write
While I stare blankly at the page
Some buried thing yearning for light
Some thing an anthema to rage
I am awake, it has awaken me
Beast, love, or suffering history?

I scan memory with a laser point
Where flowers bloom but never seed
Nothing but weeds clogging the joint
I need a flood for things to proceed.
A man was born a seed to eternity
And promises must worth more than this
Out of potential comes possibility
And without presence what can exist
This night is the margin of another day
Perhaps I'll cross it if I pray.

Here I am in the dead of night
Searching for memories reaching for flight.