In gathering darkness - a festival of lights,
spectators flock to the galleries,
chirps of anticipation rise - nests overcrowded.
The fragrance of the meadow fills the still air,
in streaks of orange and purple
the turning trees paint the pale sky,
a display of quiet dance
a quieter show to lead in.
The lights dim - a hush falls,
dulcimer sounds and shimmering lights,
a stream sets the music, flowers sway on the bough.
A procession gathers from the shadows,
winged horses and throned monarchs,
heroes and damsels, hunters and dragons;
mighty gods and minstrels, Gemini and Jupiter,
the lion and the swan, Ursa and her minor.
A song in the wind - wish-granting fireworks,
with delight proclaim and marvel,
the contenance of the queen - sovereign of the night.
In all her splendour the Moon despenses
gentle beams to sooth the aches and lull to sleep
the tormented creatures that toil,
under the tyranny of the Sun
his glare a whip of fire.
Yonder there is Man - tyrant of his own fate,
forging his own burdens under harsh Neon,
brooding - a canopy of gloomy Sodium.
He occasionally stumbles from under his shroud of light,
timid, armed with a rapier of bottled light
searching, seeking, but still not seeing
oblivious to the magic of the gentler light
ethe - real, the measure of all truth.
From before Man - beyond his undoing,
the grand procession dances on,
ever changing - beautiful music in light.