E’re the Dawn

February 14, 2011 by thegnosticpoet.

“It’s always darkest e’re the dawn.
I swear your dawn will have its worth,”
She scrawled upon the wall and ran.
I looked upon the dripping words,
Blacker black on a blackened wall,
And wondered why my wyrd was here
Not where I’d thought for good and all.
But destiny is always queer,
Not caring where we’d go or why
Nor lighting paths to show the way
But bounding us like hedges high,
We blind beggars who shun the day.

Bitter herbs and bitter tonics:
How would we shun them if we could?
Yet sometimes they’re the doctor’s orders
So we take them as we should.
I, like a horse recalcitrant,
Have pulled the wagon where I would,
Again the master takes my reins
And turns me back into the wood
Whose dark and twisted shapes still leer
And reach above to block off sun.
Perhaps beyond this darkened passage
Waits the brightness to be won?

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