When cometh the piercing sliver of light

New generations of resolute leaders must emerge, leading according to the dictates of our times with pride of place and being.

When the cold-hearted moon eclipses,
the sun’s radiance fades. We live, we die
in the shadow world,
dark and darker. The shadows deepen;
the winds blow cold, whistling and whispering
their message so well told, so often,
so unheard. We indulge the melancholy
of the absurd, the lucidity
of a demented Lucifer.
The dogs howl from their stoops;
locked doors and shuttered windows
have a sullen presence.
Tears and blood suffer a simmering coalescence;
fretful eyes peek out of Venetian blinds askew.

Pith and kernel,
Core and heart—
Where is the purity and piety of lost souls?

As the lumens fade
and the darkness pervades,
the dull orange penumbra
appears fixed in place. Is the black void,
once the sun, the sum total of our existence—
a message from the gods?
They tire of trying to warm our hearts,
petitioning for the requisite glories,
honor and nobility, peace and justice.
We are the children of the universe,
yet to come of age. 
The mythical Ouroboros is left choking
on the grotesque appetites of Man.

Pith and kernel,
Core and heart—
Where is the purity and piety of lost souls?

Such crazed, conceited souls,
so determined to be more than they are,
they become less and less.
Ego becomes their infamy;
killing, the business at hand.
Power is their purser.
Evil is their hallmark.
They are Lucifer’s sycophants—but even he
suffers a stoic blush of embarrassment.
Theirs is the evil beyond his own calculations—
blowing up the world leaves him with no clientele.

Pith and kernel,
Core and heart—
Where is the purity and piety of lost souls?

Specious pragmatisms foul the air.
Perfidies abound where there is grotesque despair.
What was sacred has been rendered profane;
what was reverend has turned to spite.
What was pertinent drowns in cesspools of indifference.
There is no deliverance, just sordid decline.
When cometh that piercing sliver of  light,
marking the eclipse is over?
Is there a new quintessence to be had?
How many dispensations do the gods allow?
How many foolish notions are we allowed
before the immutable laws of the universe
foreclose our tenuous franchise?

When cometh that piercing sliver of light?
When the eclipse is over, the light returns
and the deadheaded imposters are banished.
Resolute leaders must emerge,
leading according to the dictates of our times
with pride of place and being.
Pith and kernel,
Core and heart.                                             

 © the author

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