Crepuscular Ambulations

[samhays]

Original poem, hot off the press:



CREPUSCULAR AMBULATION

I walk into the darksome night.
The air is fresh and cool.
Though not a single soul in sight,
Strange silhouettes befool.

The silent streets are desolate,
But I see many things:
A cenotaph immaculate,
And bats with fleshy wings,

And in stately gardens, growing
Beneath the starry veil,
Phosphorescent phlowers, glowing
By rays of moon so pale.

Phlowers purple, white, and yellow;
In the breeze, how they sway!
Their exotic perfumes: mellow.
They make a fellow gay.

But then I get the faintest whiff—
An oceanic smell.
Crustaceous flesh and kelp I sniff,
And mussels from the shell.

It beckons me on gentle wind,
Swept off the salty sea,
And thus I walk unto its end,
Entranced hypnotically.

Upon the beach, I look around,
And round and round I go.
Without a skyline to be found,
The sky doth always shew.

Sky, land, and sea as one behave;
All glitter in Moon's glow.
With undulating cloud and wave,
Above is as below.

I feel myself now levitate,
Half-floating in a void.
All sense of space I extirpate.
My spirit: overjoyed.

The flow of deep time enters me—
The future, past, and now—
And in a flash eternity
Is tangible somehow.

But then I slowly start to see,
From cosmic spheres beyond,
A growing luminosity
Athwart the briny pond.

I feel myself return to earth—
My mystic vision gone—
But here another kind of mirth:
Sweet Brigid brings the Dawn!

Her violet light is soft and dim,
But growing rapidly
Where giant squid and shark both swim:
Beneath where sky meets sea.

The shadows off surroundings lift;
The colours now increase.
I feel the vibe around me shift;
I feel the twilight cease.

From Ocean's deep and fecund womb,
That orb so numinous
Is once again reborn to bloom
Its rays most luminous.

Then a feeling so euphoric,
As seagulls soar and scream,
For the scene feels prehistoric;
Like pterosaurs they seem.

For the dawn so bright and early
Is like the dawn of time;
From a cosmic pool so swirly
Evolves a sunny clime.

From waning moon to waxing sun—
A liminal display—
The transmutation now is done:
From night to brightsome day.


--Samuel Hays, 5/10/2020