I Yearned For Bucketfuls Of Scorn Poem by Emmanuel George Cefai

I yearned for bucketfuls of scorn
For
These had sowed I
I passed more than one night
With hands behind my head
On the pillow
With open eyes the dark ferreting
Shadow grey on shadow grey was
Moving on the walls.
Fear abandoned me for an
Occasional thrill of joy
And then an interregnum of
Drear
And then again the cycle began
Again.
I
That had seen so many a wave
Arise cold, drench my face
Place mists before my eyes
Fear in my heart and thrill
Of indifferent little things:
Now fear abandoned me
There only be
A skeleton with no eye balls staring
Vacantly
And
All around me dark and drear, and drear and
Dark
Again and yet again
Thoughts flow, the night passes
Inexorably, the chimes strike
Menacing and destiny-like
Alarms were they of all the Time
That flew?
The Motion that around me grew?
Under the blankets warm temporary
For the night I looked at the ceiling
With open eyes and wide
And thinking, thinking:
Yet I grumbled not for all this
Sleeplessness.
The graves in the dark hidden
One on the other loaded
Open their jaws and lids
And yawned not frightening.
All was so indifferent in that
Drear dark midst the warm
Temporary blankets.
Open the lid of destiny, Time
And hours pass and strike
Ominously and irreversibly
The night from thick deep be
Transformed to a thin disc
The Dawn is near
Yet for me in all this indifference
There be no difference
In the first twinges of the light
And white.
I turn around and sleep
So suddenly!
Morpheus waited for its trick
Till Dawn
At Dawn.