Watching, waiting

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Stay for a time, if you will.

Call to new searching eyes the echoing of yesterdays

as once a figure, be-cowled, a consecration of watchfulness and waiting

might have also echoed earlier yesteryear.

Stand with that ancient Peregrino and look

look

thrice-times look into darkness.

 

Is not the Siren Dark but a blinding of light,

a witness to the hand of eternity?

To us who run, crash, burn in a twinkling of time,

is this unchanging Titan not also watching, waiting?

Its silent stillness soliciting oration from the foundations of the earth,

an everlasting hymn of praise to the Light of the Heavens?

Through its millenial regard of those which pay so little heed

to the yielding skin of earth, are we not also captured in its harmonic

heart, raised alongwith those blest of visions beatific?

So that, alive to the now, joining in its ancient quietness

we find footing in that stillness,

daring to speak the language of sweet song celestial.