A Test of Night

Trapped atop a tapestry twined from finest wool,

Beholden to the metaphors believed to be the rule.

Tightly twisted fibrous strands traverse the image shown,

Masterfully methodizing mistaken hist'ries known.

Good folks grow below it, gawking over time,

Believing brings to bustling lives brilliance sublime.

Silken strandings knitted with sweet traditions weight,

Proud pigmented heritage of portentous lanky gait.

Unknowing or unwilling to unwind the pictured thrall

The tapestry remains the trap that tightly holds us all.

The test of night derives absolute dark.

From skies aloft the light will fade from day,

and in the dim they leave behind we weep,

bemoaned of every lost ideal I say.

I left the door this morn at crack of dawn,

above a dewy path I wend my way.

But at my dusk the path I trod was gone,

and I forgot the place wherein we lay.

Before the listing vessel drops below,

before the dark surrounds us with its play,

before the day withdraws I will abide

the gaze of light's own fading final ray.

There’s terror in the darkness of the attic of your mind,

And darkness in the attic of the terror that is mine.

With all our myriad issues and the problems we both face,

What’s say we grab some dinner and then head back to your place?

My Valley