Celtic Poetry: Shekinah

I stepped out

From the shadows

And into the sun,

Only to find

It was a moon

Of my own making.

The lilting light,

That I thought was sacredly solar,

Was only a torch

Of my own burning.

Then I looked

Beyond both lights

And was instantly blinded

By a divine eclipse.

I scrambled in the darkness

And sought to hide myself

From the blaze of heaven,

Which was fiercely imminent.

My moon melted away;

My torch flickered out;

My burning was consumed

And I stood naked

In God’s inexorable Light.

Instantaneously,

Eternity emblazoned,

And totally engulfed

All

That once

Was

me.

(c) 2009   John Stuart

Asheville Insomniac

It’s after midnight.

 

As I look out

of my hotel room window,

I see a mountain mist

meandering across

the mall parking lot.

 

Specks of rain

have peppered my window,

so I play an eye game

by reflecting the street lights

through the spattered pane.

 

My room’s refrigerator

chirps contentedly

like an Icelandic cicada.

Somewhere,

down the hall,

I hear a subdued television.

 

I smile

and settle down

to sleep.

I much prefer

my own

secluded

Late Show.