The Light...

Darkness pushed
and shoved its shoulders
against my house;

wind wrapped its
length around smoke,
brick, and black trees,

finally bellowing
and blustering below
the low hanging eaves,

rattling, railing
against the silent
faces of windows.

Beating violently
on my bolted doors,
the wild wind roars,

and I hide,
vainly seeking a flicker
of light...

I think of Nabokov's words,

'The cradle rocks above an abyss,
and common sense tells us
that our existence is but a brief
crack of light between two
eternities of darkness.'

But, I know he's wrong,
for God would never leave us
without comfort...

Are we not of his garden,
his beloved flowers clinging to
stems swaying in the
fiercest of nights,

with faces tilted
upward, awaiting his
sacred offering
of light?

No, Nabokov...

Faith is the inextinguishable
light of all eternities.