In Dusk

I.
Black silhouettes mark the Horizon
In the face of precious Skies;
And we, our Day is waning
For the Beauty hurts our Eyes.

In Heav’n God labors gracef’lly,
On Earth we rest so Old;
He melds and mixes Glorious pans
Of bright and shining Gold.

By His pow’r He crafts the Sun,
To Light the Morning dew;
Each Night He forges His Great Star
To light the Day anew.


II.
And when His Sphere is stained maroon
Like a bruise upon the Heavens;
And only the soft, coursing Winds
Serve the Night to leaven.

While God benign upon His Throne,
Lists out His Blessings to give;
His Angels dance and serve His Court,
In Gaiety for whom forever Live.

III.
And when the plumage of Sunset has all but died,
Has seemed to pass away;
The blue Midnight now enfolding:
God’s Promise of one more Day.





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This article has 3 comments. Post your own now!

Amanda S. said...
Sept. 24, 2009 at 6:54 pm
Brilliant. I love it. Keep writing!
 
RebeccaA said...
Sept. 20, 2009 at 2:18 pm
This is the greatest poem I have ever ead. It is so old fashioned
 
pokinguintheeye This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. replied...
Oct. 3, 2009 at 12:51 pm
Thank you!
I'm glad you both enjoy the obsolete words that I call poetry.
 
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