Matins
Midnight's Liturgy
Always
Before the dawn, the lamplight
Constellations are strung, and the night wind’s
Diminuendo already sung at
Evensong. Vespers gave me
Finality, the day’s long liturgy resolved.
Gnostic residue coalesced to dreaming
Hours of mystic somnolence.
I should be asleep, I know.
Just silent prayer voiced in slow repose
Kyrie,
(Lord have Mercy), Kyrie.
My eyes are restless, though.
Night’s stellar lamps sing softly
Of igneous, liquid black, and
Pull a wayward mind into her patchwork
Quilt.
Righteous souls sleep soundly, but
Sleep is just a prayer without a voice.
The liminal space between midnight and the dawn,
Under the Magellanic bands that chant
Verse and chorus to their faithful few—
Watching for
Xanthic harbingers of dawn.
Yet I sing psalms offered by
Zephyrs of a Sun reborn.
About the Creator
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Compelling and original writing
Creative use of language & vocab
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More stories from Steve Hanson and writers in Poets and other communities.
Doing it for the troops
The others dropped like flies around me. We fought and struggled to get to this point. I'm the only one left now. The objective is right there. A mere two hundred feet away. The last of my team got a bullet to the head right next to me, but I couldn't do anything. I was able to locate and neutralise the sniper as he shot my friend, so his death was at least not in vain.
By Mohammed Darasi7 days ago in Fiction
Comments (4)
I love how this flows, and you almost don’t notice the constraint of the letters! “Pull a wayward mind into her patchwork” is probably my favourite line. The imagery you create is wonderful, and I really like the majestic, peaceful tone.
Beautiful
Impressive! Your word choice and imagery is captivating! Congrats!
A great and interesting read and submission to the Abecedarian challenge! Please check mine out if you get the chance ♥️