Black It Fell Poem by Alven L. Robinson

Black it fell, the night
upon the snow; it was deep,
deeper than the thought
hovering above the ridge

unknown, unspoken
save a fleeting mist,
a laden branch set free
without a wisp of wind - -

a promise broken,
left gray upon the cold,
the scattered ash to roam
clothed in silent white, stark

frozen words across the cliff,
the naked faces steeped in dead belief,
altars to a moment's past
now still, mirrored in the stream,

flowing to a call, a road,
a river sown toward the sea - -
a valley's sleep, a hidden well
beyond her reach, beyond the canyons

and the thunder, and the
polished stones and fading sounds,
and lanterns left to glow alone
before the gates and throngs

waiting on the purgatory
grounds - - withered there before
the light, grasping at the dream.