The Book Of Night Eight Poem by Daniel Brick

(VII)

Like a mirage, the night wavers
around four a. m. It's as if dark
and light performed a dance of
alternating brilliance, but it threatens
to spin out of control and cause
a disaster throughout the fields
of the night. Night owls can attest
to this fear of collapse. It cannot be
hidden or disguised. But I have
a sense for these things. It derives
from my experience, and though I am
pledged to silence about this mystery,
I will tell you what I can. When we
reach the threshold of the moment
of entry, I will know in a final flash
of clarity, if we can proceed...
Then follow me with slow urgency
and recite the delights of your heart
until they are more persuasive than
a perfect day in spring. If your truth
reveals your beauty, I will no longer
conceal my love. Should this fail,
and the threshold closes, I will return
to my ancestral home, alone but free, sad but wise.