The Hill Of Dreams (Fragments) - Poem by William Mark
There is a magic in the midnight sky;
In tinted arctic dawns that gild the snow;
In golden, sunlit jungles of Khitai;
The glory of a Persian sunset's afterglow;
In the aurora's weird, unearthly light,
Where stars are eyes obscured behind a veil
Of dancing amethyst and malachite;
The vivid transience of the meteor's trail;
The silence of a ruined city of the waste;
Moonrise that dapples the deserted plain;
A solitary island by wild seas embraced;
By blind, perpetual tides that surge and race
To thunder on the skyward-reaching shore in vain;
In trackless forest; in high peaks cloaked in shroud
Of evening mist; in galleon-sails of summer cloud;
In all the endless beauty that this world contains...
* * * * * * * * *
Sweet charm resides in Nature’s every phase;
Where spring’s renewal dissolves in summer’s haze;
How autumn’s hand each dying leaf will braze
Ere winter falls, and blasts the world to stone.
The scarlet rose of summer fades and dies;
No sense of joy in spring or autumn lies;
No fire of hope ignites in winter skies;
For, amid all these things, I am alone.
Let winds of fortune blow me where they will;
A season’s turn but brings us closer still.
Each day apart is one more step to take;
Each hour we share, another tile in the mosaic...
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