The Glimpse
Cursed to dwell in the shadowlands
No wholesome light of day
Darkness, a demonic lover
Cannot be kept at bay.
Thoughts that shrink from consciousness,
Wait till consciousness takes flight.
Then come alive
In the uneasy peace of night.
But, in this lunar realm, symbolic and perverse
She, alone, receives secret words
That might dispel the curse.
A revelation so profound
To actually write of it, profane
From highest source she found,
A great pearl, born of pain.
"Beauty is eternal" the dream hauntingly proclaimed.
Perhaps the soul is "Beauty"
The "Eternal" cannot be named.
80's