Night throws its mantilla of stars over us —
a cascade offered by the once gods,
now celestial spectators of the cosmic drama.
We, like they, want only a freedom
that the gravity of life denies us.
Each night we reach for the heavens,
offering prayers in supplication,
hoping for an ascension that is always
just beyond our reach, beyond our mind’s
tenuous grasp. Mere children wanting
the stage, forever kept in the wings,
the night is replete with the promise
that the day keeps imprisoned, and we
are no longer slaves to its unending demands.
Nothing may happen this night,
as nothing has happened on so many others,
but faith and hope are the irresistible tides
on which we sail toward the horizon of freedom.
These gods have failed us, as we have them,
but the universe is of infinite prospect,
and possibilities always abound if we
dare yield our trepidation and fearlessly
reach outward and take flight into
a future beyond our comprehension.
PERSEPHONE LITERARY MAGAZINE
04
POETRY
R E A C H I N G
Louis Faber