On nights when the moon absconds,
To some strange recess,
Darkened heavens, overhead appear,
Pierced with teeming holes.
Pinpoints of light filter through,
Darkness finely sieved,
A brief shufti to marvel at,
Higher planes, tongue in cheek.
Clustered locales of blinking lights,
With brighter spots interlaced,
Halls, manors, residences of,
Distant tenants, a discrete race.

While in this penitentiary of silence,
Where even whispers do not exist,
Observation seems finely honed,
Sharpened by a sense deceased.
Culpable sight at this gain overcomes,
Prejudice of distracting sound,
That otherwise it'd proverbially followed,
Camel like through the needle's eye.

On such nights mind's eye is,
On that road to Damascus again,
Where blinded by blazing dilemmas,
Gropes mysteries it can't comprehend.

Want to comment on this Poetry? Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Poetry and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...