Night's Lament

Sadnight's Pory Psalm

By Pi Kielty (posthumously)

Found: June 10, 2015

For: No one

“The hours for months. Days, please . . .please. . .decades for weeks,” it mourns. Time shorn-withered to ether-waste, brings loss, their lone, a-lorned despaired haste. All possible then, now parted, seeping hopes, that minute's moment's best. From genesis verbs, from one form comes the rest, un-a-gether, tho' still in hope's breast. Leaving seconds a strand, undone did pass the mark, a place meeting, none. One mind both whole. Heaps; one gathers morrow's sun. The other, does reap dark's gray dim hum. A'far noon, the hammer shadow sparks light, as outward warm, night's inner doubts, below plains, will swarm. Time not enough. The day did blind, yet night does age. “Aback,” harked the god's command, “Day ends.” he said, “For I call night not mine, nor blessed.” Bright pale, no gleam of stars this evening, nor the smile seen. Night . . .dreams of. . . creation. Day undaunted, flees to westward run. One for a day, or a lesser night, the union long undone. Sad night remains un-redeemed. . , unwanted. . ; always missing god's shining sun.