Justin Silverblade Posted July 6, 2002 Report Posted July 6, 2002 Something that struck my muse the other day. Please keep in mind it isn't edited. Enjoy. Ebony Hour Oh how I wait for that Ebony Hour, Its approach is soft and light. I watch through my window bare, For it to finally undo our plight. I know not what to look for, I know not what robe it wears. But silently I hope for it, For judgment wanes, and verdict glares! Now on this early day of slumber, Where nature’s thoughts all disappear My window fills with icy mist, As the world sheds arctic tears. To my backyard a single tree, Sad and lonely and empty, The season’s cruel traditions leave, It to a suffering destiny. For it, I wait, for that Ebony Hour. The moon peaks out from full grey clouds, Its light does dance on ivory ground, And all the while, I just think, And sigh, and wait for any sound. As if to answer my sole notion, The hearty fire in my place did hiss, Earned smile from me, I could not give, What I would give, I could not miss. Its endless task will not be met, The house still bares a stony chill. It flickers and gives a zealous dance But life is not sustained by will. The fire, with sigh, I hope expires, It shan’t be stoked on this cold eve. No use for it, a waste of logs, The grateful heat will always leave. I suppose for fire, I await that hour, Though still I can not see such reason. Flame does but burn in midnight oil, And my thought to it must be treason. With quickened glace from my post, I see the tree with moistened eyes, Through my frosty glass portal, What could be, would be, I realize. Soft creaks upon wooden floor, As soft steps I take to bide my time, Off to where a kitchen makes, Boiling water, tea sublime. There I wait, for that Ebony Hour. As I sip sympathetically, I think again in the painful peace. Wooden planks from wooden trees, New lives born, when theirs do cease. And what of that sacrifice? Now the life that birds would see, Was built to more, reborn again. It has stories 2, and home to 3. That is why I wait for that Ebony Hour. I can’t but think of my longing, And it drives my sanity free, Like molasses time now flows, I just cry, sigh, and drink to thee. And soon enough, I know shall come, From up went three, down will two. And fate will call an end to this, So that painful peace shall not ensue. As if I summoned my own disgust, They appeared from down the stairs that eve, The two of them, my love and hate. Bearing news that would relieve. For a moment they both stood there, In a time that at once felt known. To them both I looked in deeply, And in their eyes the news was sown. The one, my love, came to me, And with salty cheeks gave embrace, Her words to me spoke uselessly, For I knew the terms from her pace. The one, my hate, stayed from me, While wife’s comfort was my concern, But still he caught my moistened gaze, And mouthed the words I did yearn. “I’m sorry.” Then to me there came a sigh, On my cheeks fell emotion’s brine. But from a parent’s bane I felt not sour, A weakened smile my lips did line. For finally had come, that Ebony Hour. Edited by: Justin Silverblade at: 7/6/02 3:13:19 pm
Guest Xradion Posted July 7, 2002 Report Posted July 7, 2002 Very nice! I really love your detailed description. At first, I got the image of an old man (perhaps father time) waiting for the Judgement Day. When you spoke of the Sacrifice and Rebirth, the biblical apocalypse seemed emminent in my mind, then there's the image of love and hate and then... the poem takes quite a different turn in the end. One of recociliation. And apology. You fooled me. Nevertheless, very well written poem. I love the way you gradually built it up until the climactic moment. Xradion, The Horny Druid, Scholar of the Ancient Arts, Holder of the Eye of Odin. "The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream." -Wallace Stevens "When at home, do as the Homans do." –Xradion
Justin Silverblade Posted July 8, 2002 Author Report Posted July 8, 2002 Thanks guys. I do appreciate when my work is... appreciated.
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