The Light From God’s Eyrie

Save a prayer for me,

Sweet Gypsa, Rose, Lee

For I’ve seen the Light

Shine from God’s great ey-rie.

Burst-ed past the steel clouds,

Through the trellis-work grill,

Pour-ed down like a shroud

Led me straight to the Hill.

There I laid myself low,

Poised to see a strange sight,

Ten birds, all in a row

That didst revel in that Light!

They scurried and preened

With many an odd caper

As mine curious eyes keened

Their poor wings were but paper!

Each did leap to and fro

With pretensions of flight

All made ready to go,—

Yet none reached the great height.

As I hid and I watched

This bizarre and sad sight,

It would, time to time

Show-ed forth, that great Light.

It shimmered in their wings

And slithered off their beaks,

It whispered to them of Things

Of which none would dare speak.

Yet onward they danced

Throughout the pale night

Each in time, took its stance

Eerily bathed in that Light.

They dan-ced in pairs

In threes, sixes and sevens

With their fragile fake wings

They beseech-ed the Heavens.

For five nights in a row

Was I drawn to this spectacle

Little then, did I know

All would end in a debacle.

For upon the sixth eve,

That fair Light was not shone,

And no dance was perceived,

Just some grim mourning stones.

There arose such a wail

Like a funeral dirge

My poor soul, it grew pale

As I fathomed the words.

For each spirit didst plea

From the depths of its grave

How grandiose it would be

If its death could be staved.

They ranted and screamed,

For the existence they’d known,

Perchance, to yet dream

Of a time when they’d flown.

I fled down to the vale,

Fighting back tears of sorrow

For I knew the true tale;

That their words were but hollow.

And yet.......on the next night,

Though I trembled with dread,

Didst I shake off my fright

And desert me, my bed.

With morose and with sorrow

I climb up the vast height,

Situated myself,

Prayed to see the Great Light.

And behold, it didst shone!

All a-shimmer, and all new

It raised up their bleak bones

And the life in them grew.

They once again danced,

And capered and preened,

Missed not so much as a prance

All was as it had seemed.

I climbed down to the vale

Much confused, much relieved.

To none other did I tell

Of the things that I’d seen.

And yet on some dark nights

When I am all that exists,

I recall that strange Light

In the nocturnal mists.

I remember the birds

Ten of them, in a row.

I recall their fey words

How the Light

Still didst glow.

What does this all mean?

I am wont not to say.

Still, this much have I gleaned—

Could this light be the Way?

seven angels

Seven mighty angels

(the legends have all told),

that when the wars in Heaven raged,

didst burn their thrones of gold.

Seven fallen angels,

thrown down from Heaven’s Grace.

though once they were non-pa-re-il,

now curse their cur-sed fates.

One did spawn the Darkness,

one, profaned the Night.

and one, he set the Horsemen,

upon their wicked flight.

Two called to the Dragons,

deep in their darkened lairs.

and one didst weave the “Fate-of-All,”

into His golden hair.

But one shalt stand before them,

a mighty hand upraised,

and She will sound the trumpet-hymn,

that tolls the End of Days.

Seven mighty angels,

one better than the rest.

All are condemned to reign in Hell,

save One, whose Soul is blest.

© Copyright, 2015, Louis Ellenwood Barlowe .
All Rights Reserved.