Alone

What thought fear burns

Along long lonely, nightlit turns;

With day’s light fled

And I, the last long spark

Of reason, crackling on

Through mornings sighed

By mine eye bled.

 

Alone! The silence stilled

By thought, fought deep to death.

As breath takes pause, considers well

When last may follow next,

Cause master to unmake me

By dawn’s drawn bloodless level led.

 

Rank forms of mornings

Greet cold eyes

Unborn in recognition.

‘His eyes are old, gone old, are gold,’

The morning masters said.

Not darkness, but the light I fear;

Her interests swift

Were beached, outreached ...

She left me caught

In death, I said.

 

David Lewis Paget