Forsake the Dawn

Forsake the dawn and seek the deeper night,
The dark of midnight’s cool, moon-soft caress
Which sets a dusk-kissed breeze against your face.
He weaves wild diamonds from the gem strewn skies
Into a worthy crown of silvered light,
With gentle beams, braids stars in every tress.
From the very vault of deepest space
The last vestige of golden sunlight flies
Gleaming to his hand, so that he might
Reach out and gild with beauty. Then, to bless
The final sacrament of destined grace,
A slender cloud-ribbon enveils your eyes.
Long hidden in the rolling wastes of time
His touch unlocks the reason for your rhyme.

E.M. Swift-Hook