The Marbled Night

 

A draft poem, inspired largely by Kate Bush. 

 

The marbled night returns itself to me,

Both milk-white and mood-dark, it renders up

All thoughts of constellations in my heart.

Past longing hours and woods of leafless trees

The marbled night returns itself to me.

 

The evening has been drained right to the cup:

All colours wane, and nuance tends to please

All thoughts of constellations in my heart.

The truant night receives, as finally

The evening has been drained right to the cup.

 

I’ve lived whole lives to waste such nights as these,

To capture freedom with a felony.

All thoughts of constellations in my heart

Are fires dashed ‘cross the sky, a grace of chance:

I’ve lived whole lives to waste such nights as these.

 

The marbled night returns itself to me,

The true night and its wonders to entrance

All thoughts of constellations in my heart:

And as the promised hour is mine to seize

The marbled night returns itself to me.

 

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