Ode to Abeyance
Part 1: The Blacksmith's Triumph
These feeble words are formed of treasures now
Concealed from light. (If left to age they fade,
Like rays from far off stars, from here they shine
As pinpricks; but in themselves they are suns).
How can I keep you strong, my friend? How can
I convince you of your beauty, hammered
On the anvil of a life allayed by
The planing swathe of sorrow's contention?
For me, you gleam with inward power; my mind
Both ravaged (and ravished) in elation.
Is this the preface to A Gulph Unspanned?
Are we now locked in unfulfilled embrace?
Dancing in eternal hesitation
For fear of rejection, frozen in space...
Part 2: Sonnet for a Gulph Unspanned
Would that a hand could stretch across the span
Which hangs between our secret dreams of love.
Your yearning heart, from when we first began,
Has wrapped itself around me like a glove.
But will this fragile garment, like the sheath
Of snakes and butterfly's cast off clothing,
Dissolve into the dust and not bequeath
Its limpid legacy (no gold I bring)?
Are you just a phantom friend, imagined?
A gentle bubble's rainbow reflection?
Or will that pointed chasm soon be spanned
(Your hand, or mine?) with purest affection?
I think I read the answer in your eyes:
Will we ensure it grows before it dies?
© copyright 1997, 2006
Alan Morrison, Sincerity Music
