MORNING - a poem - re-posted

just a poem from my archives, unedited; original goes back to the 1970s (as best my memory serves me) but, previously published on this blog in 2009

MORNING

Blackly embroidered

against the morning sky,

three trees.

Filtering silver

through the mist; the sun

emerges into day.

But nothing seems

so real as in my dreams.

I grow into my death

it does not bind me:

the silence penetrates

my thoughts –

the face of Christ. In death

he conquered life,

turning even the shadows

into a source of light.

Death conquers life, life

death. The black and white,

merely the parts of one.

Under the endless weight of time

lies truth. Beneath the endless weight

of sky this earth. Waking

then walking through the quiet scene

the mist defines the dream

as truth.

Mist filtered early

morning sun

blackly embroidered trees.

The frosted earth

and silver sky destroys

all barriers.

                                        Malcolm Evison