An Ode

I had spent my life tearing off pages of diaries -
pages worn with business and pages unused.
Then the tearing sound’s key and cadence changed:
it went up one major seventh, another, and then
I couldn’t but find myself entranced by its melody.

I sensed behind my eyes something new, something fiery.
The day annexed the night, and the night abused.
And a sweeping motion, a force, a vocal range
Exceeded, drove my mental rage to pen
Screeds of letters, essays, sonnet, paean, threnody.

I sing in the small hours, I draw past the cold nights.
I am become Worlds, and Death a fairy story!
I dance to the song of the faraway streetlights
And am blind to all but to Beauty and to Glory.

Freude!

Freude!

Lux mea aeterniter luceat.