The Eclipse
‘My thoughts are often consumed by death
And the dark side of the Moon, '
I said to Jane as she sensed my pain
On that Sunday afternoon,
We'd sat through the morning sermon
Of the Tempting on the Mount,
‘The Devil is often abroad, ' she said,
‘More times than we can count! '
‘Yet God is the infinite mystery,
He never has shown himself,
He doesn't swoop down to rescue us
Or curb the excess of wealth! '
I said there were so many questions
That had led me into doubt,
But Jane, the waif, had a simple faith
And she turned me inside out.
‘Look at the trees and bushes here
And the way they propagate,
And every species to its kind,
We're all in the hands of fate.
He works his wonders in full view
We need to open our eyes,
For his is the great creative force, '
She said, and her words were wise!
The sky had suddenly darkened
It was coming on to rain,
We dashed to the nearest clump of trees
And I reached for the hand of Jane,
I held her tight in the fading light
Sought heaven through her lips,
And fell to the leaf-strewn forest floor
Where we stayed through the sun's eclipse.
The day had become as black as night,
It was eerie, through the gloom,
As we made the wildest, passionate love
On a Sunday afternoon,
And the seed I left at the rising crest
Of our love, and the sun's eclipse,
Was the seed of the Great Creator, found
At the warmth of a woman's lips!
23 July 2012
poem by David Lewis Paget
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
