Out of that darkness, that pitch of oppression,
Out of that blackness, that void,
Out of that dank trap of timeless cessation,
Fluttered wings fully deployed.
Flapped they with fury till furies they fled,
Eons of hostile subverted,
Out of the dungeon where demons have bled,
Their intentions subtly diverted.
Out of the abyss the albatross flew,
Chains still swinging from claws,
Stronger the wings that have practised harnessed
Though aerial given to pause.
Out from down under, down deep but not out,
Out from Cerberus’ grasp,
Felt in the darkness, eyes rested shut,
Earthbound by blindfolded task.
Up through the channels, tunnels truncated,
Veering, uninjured as such,
Instinctively seeing, hearing the light
Guided by sensory touch.
There to the high plains, a leap with all faith,
Rattling links still attached,
Power encompassed in breadth of the stretch,
Night, by flight, fully matched.
Sometimes in darkness, especially in pitch,
Only blind sense will suffice,
Failing the five, depend on the other,
Wide shut for eye of sixth sight.
I had written the first eight lines of this yesterday just based on ‘out of’ then left it to brew. In comments with Paul I happened to mention that I close my eyes to see better in the dark, which is true. I don’t really know why I do it but it feels more natural to sense my way through darkness than it does to try to see. The rest was born from Paul commenting, by return, that it sounded like a life credo. Maybe it is. 🙂
scottishmomus 