Gladden Scribbles

myriad of wings in the sky,
home and home, gentle wings, gently fly
myriad of wings, I said I could not count
soaring up the gloomy eve, yes, I can now recount
...

I have longed for the finality of today,
and it is sure the heart of may
the gracious month I first saw the ray
and the painful day,
...

I saw you weep in light agleam
led by a hand from the world of dream
I saw you quivering, muttering
of some words above my hearing
...

When I slept,
there was no me
Nor all of them
in me
...

I wake! I wake! I wake!
It was for my love's only sake
What then have I dreamt overnight
That brought tears to this weeping sight?
...

we met again,
at lethe's flowing stream
she wept and sang in pain
like life was just a world of dream
...

There came a silent knock,
on my frail gentle door
and I strove to turn the lock
in the sorrow cloth I wore
...

Constellation of stars hung above me,
I wandered in the light of the night
To make me see, they followed me
The million eyes at no man's height
...

The dark was the view they craved to see,
And the stars and the moon that deigns upon sea
The dark is that void that turns eyes to sleep
And the mantle that hides all that creeps
...

Laggardly, I watched the hour hand land
And over it trudged the shadow of the minute hand,
Which these eyes have longed to see,
As it steers the former toward morn I now see.
...

One night...........In my head,
A voice awakened me and said:
'Arise Gladden, and sit on thy chair'
'And write of things that bring you fear.'
...

The dark arose, as is yearned by me;
Matters awoke from slumber, as they were meant to be.
Through me, dark brooding found its tripping feet,
And against me, its conclusion brought the sudden cry of defeat.
...

Tyres silently groan;
Horns—insults behind and forth
Movement drowns the rage.
...

Nocturnal call leaps.
Wakeful beings fears to think;
The night had its way.
...

Your grace, Abba Father—
Is the hand that clutches our sleeves,
Preventing us from falling into the pit of the tempter.
We, by no means, deserve this gift,
...

On my ascent to the skies,
I saw my past weep before me,
And the memories of joy and fruitless cries
Stung my consciousness like an angry bee.
...

And silent I passed a lofty hall
where my shadow was standing tall
and beaming there shone from afar— a light
brighter ever than the morning light
...

through the night I live on,
cheating slumber for my muse
through my leisure i brood,
deeply over my shaky life
...

the sorrows of a pauper
bothers the wishful thinkers
in the hope of grace hereafter
but then, the paupers thinks the hereafter forever.
...

the night pass on,
welcoming the morning sun
the darkness vanished from the sky
the light wishing it a slow goodbye
...