From the Fields came forth.. By Robert Fullarton

From the Fields came forth..

By Robert Fullarton

Copyright 2017

I surveyed the darkness

At the edges of the fields

And waited for the fierce

Frosts to carpet the sleeping earth

I saw darkness within myself

Appearing like a vision

As I journeyed through

Unto the panorama

That revealed a mystery

Unbeknown to me before

There is beauty and there is tragedy

A world of tears

Like porcelain cups

Or lives thrown against the cliffs

This is winter

I told myself

And youth was spring

From which another man inhabited

The roots of furtive thought

And rich living in which I stole the sun

From the point of no return

The boy was hardened

Like clay into the baking oven

Tested by the rough winds

Of the world

Away from this isle of the dead

By the weeping willows

I ask myself these questions

“what is destiny and what is fate,

What part do I play in the great

Wrestle against the colossus?

How can I live? How can I dream?

When my body has been crushed?

I am one of those men who disbelieve

And fail to take the golden

Opportunity afforded

And delivered as a miracle from God.”

I’ve seen these dreams

Like re-runs,

They speak as voices

From the other side

Over the man made wall,

The man made ignorance

That scoffs in the face of authority,

The outstretched arm

And heart calls through

A man made clamour

Just to reach you

Where you are

Into the corners of a darkened winter

Where the light does not dwell

I aspire to think

“of day being resurrected

And man rising henceforth like flowers

Where once the earth and bones

Were dead, henceforth

The man shall dwell in the court

Of the heavenly gardener

And all the earth is alive again

And man’s song is most beautiful

Once more, with no melancholy

But joy, not so subtle

But so powerful, once more!”