Far and upper reaches all aglow with dawn
While lower, nearer bounds are darken'd still
By shadows of the earth and remnants of the night
Slowly sliding moments before sunrise: a picture—
how already and not yet coexist and commingle (surprisingly)
The world, the age is broken, finished, ended
While still it rushes onward, unnoticing: its time has come—
its time is all but done.
History gasped: the first acted ended with a birth—
a birth that ushered in the interlude, continuous, no break between the two
An interlude of death and undeath, two-in-one
On the first act curtain fell, though actors scamper still across the stage
And still the next act tarries, curtain yet unlifted,
And still the audience sits waiting, breath baited, till the curtain's rise on final act—
(on final act that will not end)
The curtain rises slow
Far and upper reaches all aglow with dawn
While lower, nearer bounds are darken'd still
By shadows of the earth and remnants of the night
It is so clear how passionate you are about this topic. Pretty poem.
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