The Coming Of Dawn Poem by Alex Garr

The night tolls the hour of dust,
When the sands fall shimmering through glass
Woven of spectral strands
And the moon goes black.

Ink and tar meld and
Nyx prances beneath a
Void vacant of Vulcan’s forge,
A void in which neither Orion hunts
Nor Sirius howls.

Timber splinters and
Stone crumbles beneath
The might of Saturn’s amber glow.

Borne of dust,
In blood and fire,
The hand sweeping across
Chasms spanning eons until
Helios wakens.

The dawn tolls the hour anew,
When the oceans form from naught
And the iris blooms in light.