in the wine-dark night
for sailing ships, diamond bright,
they carry cargoes of mother-dreams,
the birth of when and then and why,
and all the new-born cries
of star-kissed light—
but all the comets, streaking bright,
no portents cry, no signs of will or won’t–
no constancy—just light.
Yet concentrate on the soulful sound,
of shimmering stars, and all around
hear the ringing ding dong ding
as bird-winged they twinkle-sing—
now watch as the comet phoenix-flies,
and listen as its call from ashes rises
not fate, fortunes, nothing symbolized–
simply light and song—
what you wanted all along.
For Day 29 of Paul Brookes’ Ekphrastic Challenge. Tomorrow is the last day of the challenge and of poetry month.