Alone in the concrete bunker of the library
with "Vol de Nuit", I hear the clash of distant
armies, turbulence, the sounds of siege,
and venturing outside beneath the muffled
cacophonic skies, find every leaf still tremulous
in lightning's epileptic gyres, glistening like eyes,
extending offerings of crystal beads
like cataclysmic tears, purged by relief…
The skies boil with a seething mass of lava,
only murky grey, as if the brain of some primeval
deity came out to play, masking the high passes of the Andes
with the fumes of hell, sounding the knell of treachery
to solitary storm-tossed planes. The heavens roil,
creation running wild, streaming raw energy,
unleashing images my mind
had hived while reading "Vol de Nuit" -
the spirit of anarchic night,
the soul transfixed by poetry
in flight toward the guerdon
of a million enigmatic stars…
*Inspired by the story, "Vol de Nuit" by Antoine de Saint-Exupery.