A Poem by ANTON VON STEFAN
From a dream November 23, 2014
The Warm Light
T'was 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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