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A Poem by ANTON VON STEFAN

The Warm Light

Twas a dark and stormy night
    as ever there was.

The gloom upon the moor.
Its dark shadow upon the land did cast
    as that ebony veil enshrouds,

The baleful wind.
Its mournful tones anon a horrid shriek
    as the bare trees twist,

The frightful boughs.
Their dance to the dismal beat of the gale
    as each branch rattles.

The malevolent chill.
Has crept in upon the hour unseen
    as winter’s frost unleashed,

The uncompassionate cold.
As upon the howl of the North Wind nips
    as it cuts through cloth,

The frigid frost.
Upon the bones of men who dare bites deep
    as its finger impales.

The ungodly rain.
From the heavens above pour out their tears
    as the drops shatter,

The moist dampness.
Drenching this morbid world in icy water
    which grants no comfort.

The dark demons dance.
Laughing out loud in glee to the hell-sent night
    as their cackle song implores,

The dismal spectre of night.
Unleashes the terrors within the mind
    as if nightmares we bear,

Through this alien climate.
Afar the spectre of a distant light
    as we turn our head toward,

The unexpected glow.
Its sparkle a beacon this stormy night
    as bright as a thousand suns,

The illumination does imply.
One other being brings witness to bear
    as this horrid night unfolds.

The woeful visitor.
Upon a night like this alone, aghast, forlorn
    as each weary step they take,

The path they choose.
E’er uncertain of where safe haven lay
    as they brace both frost and wind.

The lone light.
Wouldst its distant shine warmth and daylight bring
    as it befuddles the stormy night?

The brightness from afar.
Though not the travellers destination true
    as homeward bound they seek,

The castle keep.
Its drawbridge down shall vanquish all unleashed
    as we look upon that radiance,

The simple soul relieved.
Of the wretched pilgrim’s punitive plight
    as we boldly go upon our way.

The warm light.
Brings a moment of joy and inner peace
    as we become aware,

The minute brightness.
That darkness split, mind at ease, body warmed
    as its remote luster instills,

The utter darkness.
No more the passing bell of death’s cold march
    as afar it continues to shine,

The dark and stormy night.
Though not an iota worse than before
    as ever there was, no more.

                                                                                                                       Anton Von Stefan
                                                                                                                       November 23, 2014



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