Poetry Sunday

Sight of the Night Soul

The stars have splashed my blinking eyes

Blinding me with its disguise

Now the light may crystallize

All that I have seen

The tree bears fruit of every kind

To thee I wish to be defined

For all the light now has me blind

Senses nearly keen

Confused by sight and sordid sound

Truly lost what I have found

Kneeling on the trodden ground

From thee I must be weaned

I hide behind the night lights shower

Not to frail I will not cower

Safely under the bridled bower

The storm clouds thus convene

Lofty soul these things I seek

Strengthen me when I am weak

Of this earth among the meek

Grasping sights unseen

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