Bad Night
A seabird driven landward by a storm
Circles overhead, expected guest,
We have been waiting for the wind to form,
Apocalypse approaching, east to west
The Christ of God comes riding on a cloud,
No vapor any more but head and flank,
Steed of Consummation and the proud
Recoil, the angels rank on rank
Precede and overshadow in the lee:
Cities and the fields that once pristine
Await the cleansing comfort of the sea:
When they rise again they will be clean
All the restless sleeping in their beds
Wake and rise, still dreaming of the dead
Pavel
April 20, 2011
