In the shadow
Between dark and light;
In the suffocating
Arclit compound;
In the gloom
Of doubt and contingency
Which would snap if a bird sang
But no bird can;
In the anteroom
To the chamber of my love
- Will she receive us?
And there are some among us who spend the time
Waiting for higher motives to engage them
That never do. And so
There are no more missionaries,
No more saints, no more saviours, no more poets,
No more philosophers. Only tycoons,
And us, the little people
We turn into ourselves....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Tender and sublime between darkness and light, enjoy beginning the day in this space of time for it enables love to emerge from the shadows of evening, becoming ourselves. Excellent poem. Thank you for sharing. RoseAnn