Relinquishing the Eleventh Hour

. . . for the elect’s sake those days 
shall be shortened. Matt. 24:22 

With solemn tenderness 
You apportioned our times and seasons 
(While Eden embroidered itself with emeralds), 
And marble campanile chimed a day 
Into a thousand years. 

Seraphimed through bone gates, 
We grew and, remembering your word, withdrew 
Into our own keeping, 
Poised in spirit’s perfect self-suspension. 

But light, too painfully loved, flickers 
And narrows, as a twig sheathed 
In a membrane of transparent ice, 
Winter after winter, flows from itself needlethin. 

Elohim, did the bright green of 
Now-cindered star once feast on secret seed, 
Venom-spored in summer sun, 
Feast and whisper silent lies to your children? 

And now, for our own, 
Not for ourselves, we seek 
A Father’s blessing, to quicken our telestial labor 
When days, stillborn in winter’s grieving, 
Linger as a thousand years.