Watching With the SphinxInto the abyss I stare, and the abyss stares
Back at me with a low electric chuckle
As toward the third millennium we dance
Our palsied tango.
I taste the hopes and fears and loves
Of others, yet like the Sphinx
I have forgotten how to feel
My own emotion.
And in my youth, I chased and danced and fought
To fill this void with action;
But in the darker half of my own life
I sit and watch.
And all our ziggurats and morning stars,
Bright and proud and heaven-reaching
Fall into misty gray
And are no more.
The sword of reason lies broken
As we pursue our golden token.
Is this the sum of man or eve's own daughter?
Is everything but dross and dray,
The sweating labor of the mule
Lurching toward the dusk?
I cannot say. I have no fathom-rod
To gauge the depth of time
Nor means to sound the day
Nor test the night.
Harriet and Frederick ran a railroad
Of hope and dream and freedom.
Where is my darkling train
To carry me away?
The shattered sword lies sharp and bright
As we dance on its failing light.
The city lights are twinkling in the cold
As folk create a bar against the night
Yet I shall choose the chill
And watch the shining sight.
And in that sight I'll find what blindness
Drew me to the brink of light and dark.
And in that blindness I
Shall step away.
And we shall dance and play around the mushroom ring
While Barleycorn is crowned and made our king.
copyright 27 December 2000
by Earle B. 'Glas' Durboraw; Birmingham.