Lux Domi

The mountain is a yawning gulf, a well

Of blackest night that opens on the sky

To swallow all the heavenly galaxies

Into its depths, as on voluptuous swell

Incalculably slow to the human eye

They swing about the branches of the trees.

He waits, this hungry beast, weaving a spell

To draw within himself all that come nigh

To peer into his hidden mysteries

Deep in his throat I see one golden cell,

One star that lives within and sends its light,

Homing the trav’ller, telling him of love.

Not quenched by mountain as the lamps above,

But shining bravely in the cave of night.

 

Weekly Times   22.1.60