The Eclipse

‘My thoughts are often consumed by death

And the dark side of the Moon,’

I said to Jane as she sensed my pain

On that Sunday afternoon,

We’d sat through the morning sermon

Of the Tempting on the Mount,

‘The Devil is often abroad,’ she said,

‘More times than we can count!’

 

‘Yet God is the infinite mystery,

He never has shown himself,

He doesn’t swoop down to rescue us

Or curb the excess of wealth!’

I said there were so many questions

That had led me into doubt,

But Jane, the waif, had a simple faith

And she turned me inside out.

 

‘Look at the trees and bushes here

And the way they propagate,

And every species to its kind,

We’re all in the hands of fate.

He works his wonders in full view

We need to open our eyes,

For his is the great creative force,’

She said, and her words were wise!

 

The sky had suddenly darkened

It was coming on to rain,

We dashed to the nearest clump of trees

And I reached for the hand of Jane,

I held her tight in the fading light

Sought heaven through her lips,

And fell to the leaf-strewn forest floor

Where we stayed through the sun’s eclipse.

 

The day had become as black as night,

It was eerie, through the gloom,

As we made the wildest, passionate love

On a Sunday afternoon,

And the seed I left at the rising crest

Of our love, and the sun’s eclipse,

Was the seed of the Great Creator, found

At the warmth of a woman’s lips!

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[Cristina Moldoveanu]

Simple things and simple questions are sometimes hiding deep and comprehensive meanings. I liked the way you create here a sort of mythological tale about two lovers sheltered inside wild nature's bosom. What I found here - contrasts or parallels: God - woman, Moon - Sun, Sunday - eclipse. faith - doubt. This poem is a sort of woven tapestry with threads intersecting one another. It is beautifully written with a good ending, the kind of wise love poems I like. Because I find here a deep philosophical approach and the questions about the gender of God or his omnipresence or revealing himself.

[Tate Morgan]

Another masterpiece akin to the creator.Touched me this one did.The flow impeccable.When a work goes off without a hitch it lends credence to its thoughts. Such is the work of the few masters of the word, Byron,Tennyson ,Shakespeare and Paget.

[Thomas Fitzgerald]

A sharp and tough piece, the sliding word play lends to the message of sheer myth within the context of lessons, well done, good read.

[Brittany]

Bravo! Bravo! God and sex in the same poem and expertly done. I'm with Jane and for the record...I wouldn't mind being Jane. *wink, wink*