Raving on the shores of starry nights
While time drags off in clouds athwart the moon
I hear the thrum of angel wings in flight
And know my time is coming all too soon.
If there is passion in this darkling city
Ere concrete hearts can soon enough be tried
Then bricks will fall to breaches and for pity
Beggar, thief and victim won’t survive.
And I can write my voice upon the river
And cast my words upon the barren page
But no one else will hear above a whimper
For no one wants to watch an empty stage.
Ah, Internet! it’s you can hear our voice
And in community of print rejoice!
I didn’t even realise the parallel in my photo and my poem…how spooky! 🙂
The first stanza of this poem reminds of these gatherings they have every full moon down by the shorncliffe shoreline called, funnily enough, the full moon festival. It’s always very mystical down there. No lights, lot’s of people, candles, tribal drumming and fire twirlers. I know that’s not the image you intended with it, but it’s just the first imange that came to my head.
I think serendipty is a much under-appreciated asset of being human.