The Vigil

Sitting in the shadow of the high walled city with no  gates

The pilgrim poet was acutely aware of his loneliness

He felt the ache of the night's dampness creeping into his bones

And the feeling of longing and despair creeping into his soul.

As the twilight deepened he began to consider the worth of his quest

Was there reason to hope,  reason to press on?

Or should he strike out on one of the many roads that led from this place

And continue his wanderings alone?

As if in answer to his unspoken question the clouds parted

And there she was, his Lady Diana, his moon goddess

Glowing serenely in her high heavens

He felt her light.  He felt her warmth

And in spite the loneliness and chill of the night

And the bleakness of the walled city, the thought

.....................Well, maybe tomorrow.

May 20, 2007