Twentieth Eighth Day Poem by Emmanuel George Cefai

Twentieth eighth day
Ticking
Ticking
Where be the garden
Of your dawn?
The simple beauty
Of your
Eye-dazzling sunset?
The bewitched spells
Of twilight waters?
Where?
Twentieth eighth day
There's only night
Now
We
We humans grope
Still breathe our way
But it be dark!
The stars are out
In few
No armies save
In distant Milky Way
No, no, this dark
We grope
We grope
Where be the garden
Of your dawn?
The simple beauty
Of your
Eye-dazzling sunset?
The bewitched spells
Of twilight waters?
Where?
Bacchus drinks this
Night
Drinks too
But in the chalice
There be no wine
There be blood:
Just blood
And
Time ticks
Time ticks
In the cemeteries
Where hopes are
Lost amidst
The burning tombs
In deep midnight
There
Time ticks not
Time ticks not
Nor hopes for Dawn
Nor waits a Dawn.