The Lies of the Night

The Lies of the Night

Through the weeping of the rain

The sky has become violet

There is moonlight

Framed by an empty window

Through the yet unbroken panes

Familiar things cast no shadow

There is an empty garden

The sky is without stars

There is a fragrance on the breeze

Tortured trees and vines

Flicker faintly in the gloom

Worn down hills

Whitened by moonlight

A sobbing wind

A barely burning lamp

Unseen footsteps echo

Along a cracked, autumn path

This ruined temple

This forbidding track

The trembling breath of time

That shakes the leaves

Distant peals of an old church-bell

The flame has gone to rest

And tears, they fall like rain

I turn to the past, with more longing

Than the blood already knows

Such a silence lies between us

They are so fragile,

The lies of the night

And I know, as darkness unfurls

In downward rivulets

That I have lost myself

© Ann Bagnall 2014.


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