Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Sydney Carton

The jackal has shed his skin--
or skinned himself.

His spirit, always dwindling,
now shudders, finally alive, in the brisk of the morning--
blossoming from the headless corpse.

The golden horizon
gleams in his hindsight
a thin line of beauty, of divinity;
separating the ground from the sky.

The sunrise approaches-- O!--
and he goes.

She will smile, someday, far away from this time.
And her hesitant sunshine will engulf the Earth,
left in the hands of his mirror image.

6 comments:

  1. That was very striking and very beautiful!

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  2. Wow. Incredible poem. I love Sydney Carton. This was splendid.
    (I came here by way of Dickensblog [http://dickensblog.typepad.com/dickensblog/2010/04/another-sydney-carton-poem.html].)

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