Hidden

Hidden are the shadows
As the light waves
Flow in
From the flickering flames
Of torch lit candles
That sit
Upon each window
Sill and pane


And as each
Axe cut wood
Let sparks to fly
In a blaze of fire

To dawn
Each, a horizon
Is granted
And for such is called
A new day
As may darkness recede
And shrivel in retreat
It grants rest
For eager souls

A beacon of hope
Betwix the twighlight
Guides ships to port
From harbor sounds
With horns, lights and bells

To sight the moon
The stars and all the heavens
Affixed in a time
With no night nor day

So hidden are the nights
From each coming day
For those who
Stand with no desposition
To see the heavens and eternity
And all of time cease
To a slow
Insignificant turn

For in the arc of the horizon
Many guards have beat to quarters
And many Admirals and Captains
Have gazed upon it
And still they plot their course
And swear by the heavens
That they will eventually
Reach their destinations
And although destiny has touched
The very brow
On their faces
They move on
Foward, pressing toward the mark
With zeal and determination
And the miracle of time
Remains hidden
Hidden, in a mystery
Of an insignificant turn