The star, chosen

The star, chosen

O Star (the fairest one in sight),
We grant your loftiness the right
To some obscurity of cloud --
It will not do to say of night,
Since dark is what brings out your light.
Some mystery becomes the proud.

O Star (the fairest one in sight),
I am not a blind man, I watch eternity
its depth and breath, where light refracts
and hesitates on its earthward journey
I wait patiently for its exalting presence
a glimmering
of lovely rays shimmering
earthly proof that hope exists beyond mantras
and solemn bedtime prayers recited by children
a whispering caught by planetary revolving
I am broken, earthbound, enshrouded
I am a mortal man

I grant your loftiness the right
to conquer wisdom in my humble place
enslaved in darkness, I cannot see
the birth of such towering nobility
a first inking of light, a canvas bathed
by golden rays, or nocturnal opalescence
my forehead touches the floor in reverence
I am plagued by a darkness covering my soul
enclosed in a boxlike silence, I gaze towards
heaven, towards enlightenment, its assurance…
what lessons hide, reflecting deep in my own eyes?
by eternal nightfall, I am but a sapling of wisdom

To some obscurity of cloud --
exiled in chores of nothingness, I am blind
I burn between Centigrade and Fahrenheit
at night I wander through invisible labyrinths
no right, no left, turning summons only circles
yet I desire a small round of moonlight
to confirm the enigma of my path and plight—
the beyond beckons — would death
be less dear should she befriend me evermore?
no rain, no wind, no gentle forces to ignite
turbulent air above, thick and ominous
where is starlight, its lacy message of hope?
has it too been extinguished, like burnt candles
relegated to a picture book closed before sleep?

It will not do to say of night,
she is my angelic guardian of brightness
a Sphinx of clarity and youthful joy
I am visionless, nothing reflects my soul
I murmur words not to be spoken aloud
I return, I wither, my voice coarse
fright, the lullaby of a rocking horse
leaves me breathless, I cannot continue
darkness is my foe, it offers no peace
no vaporous Saturn rings of remorse
I am imprisoned in shadows, though they hide
lines cutting deep across my brow
blooming into life's sorrow
surrounded by fields of lilies

Since dark is what brings out your light,
I am blinded by contrast, ebony-ivory opposites
I am a rose without thorns, a vase of stagnant water
I must let the hours pass
until midnight chimes invade the airs
their bells carry a sweet song
and a lightness that parries all wrong
as my heart escapes in flight
I am a feather captured by a sudden north wind
cloud burst, and the Eremite's return erelong
oh! my beloved enlightenment
illuminated under moon and stars

Some mystery becomes the proud,
paradox is faith, it is love
it is a burning sphere of incandescence
a poet captured by rouging light, I see no haze
I am that faith, I am that love, I search for beauty
on a deeply shadowed terrace
waiting for starlight’s return on the cypress
it is my beacon
it is solace found in a favorite prayer
the page ribbon marked for its piousness
silvery, like the one single ray I await every evening
oh star, the fairest one in sight


[2011.11.2...a]

Author's Note:
I misread NorthernWrites' presentation of the rhyme requirements, which should rhyme on line 6, 9 and 10. My rhymes happen on lines 6, 7 and 10, and the stanzas are either 12 or 14 lines, depending on my personal inner structure of this poem.

Having chosen the Robert Frost poem that I did, I felt it necessary to use the first six lines of his poem, instead of a quatrain which is more required in the Glosa form. I also chose to use each line of his text as the opening of my stanzas in stead of their closing, thus writing a development of Frost's ideas in conjunction with my own sensitivity and ideas about his poem.