In the deep
Of the knight
Watch man
Finding one self prone
Where singular stars obscure
As perpetual high noon
Where time stops
Straight up
Where the sun don’t shine
Like a broken time peace
With patients in undated
Wear dreams forgotten
In their wisdom nocturnal
Giving weigh
Too dark truths
For like a sentry
Only look out
For what is best
For all won no’s
Awe that it seams
A mist their act
In side
There elementary
Recesses
Of their mine
Uniformly capped
With unforeseen foil
As dread to them all ready
With tin pan reflections
Too mirror dusky shadows
Pre-pared
Too skill or be skilled
With shattered arts
Leaving won stiff
A post to the last man
A testing to peerless mail bravado
In
A remote job
So only after ours
In defense ably doing one’s doody
Incriminating nature’s coarse
All the wile
Without looking up
Just as speculative figure
Bad
Whether who starred it
Hoodwinked by grope think
Having
Out groan
Constellation prizes
Fumbling about
On which even you Depends®
Pooh-poohing it
As a conjury of their peers
And mutual convictions
Of that right before you
A void seeing
Sow proudly dedicated
And right fully committed
To full hardy belief
Going where no won has gone before
And highly ill logic
All Klingon too
Their frayed comforters
And sheer sheet
Amor gauzy shield
As bull work
Oh posing
Things that go
Bump in the night
Or worse yet
The not so light of daze
That everlusting grind
A cannonized weigh of life
No’ing the least of all
Surrender
Taking up arms
Accept as a lust resort
As dissembling mime
A forged silence
In farcing
What might
Be pro-pounding
As juster
Buy a majority
A con-script for the wrest
Safeguarding their camp
Helter-skelter
Sounding all arm
Pitting laughable fauxs
As our enema’s enema
In fashioning new fiends
Intimating familiarity
With won’s dark side
In is culpable evil
Only knot see
The twinkle in the I’s
Of every won a mother
Slumbering a bout
So far aweigh
To be
Raptured
In that stare way to heaven
Untold stories a way
Of what might raze
The dead of knight
And shrouded rays
Pre-veil over such pricks
In mortal pitch
And feather light
That mother flicker
Projecting the torch erratum
Flying that beacon
In witch
Our enemies
Cannot consume
What hell’s at stake
Ill luminated by fires bellow
However super intending
Divine assent read
The wholly smother
Jilted by pin holes of darkness
And heads as dead wringers
What’s under the desert
More gripping
Than hearts bared
And glistening from above
Calling out
Too arms
And a pare of feat
Swearing evolution
As erect brothers
Punctuate posterity
In memorial
Just ahead stone
As others lie
In truth
As plane to sea
What would work
To out fit
Such titanic under-takings
Of what still
Remains
To be
Seeing
Putting on the crowning touché
To a juggernaut of nods
Assure as the cock crows
Mourning will come
Graveyard shifts end
At the brake of daze
To the relief of fodders and mothers
And in the wake of the moment
We will score the skinny
That rarefied crack
In lightening this orchestral ball
Dawning upon him
A most well come vocation
Know more job
As the reel work begins
As fissures of men
Bring us to reguard
Catching ourselves
As part of each wholly lessen
A mist every calumny nation
As in deep
The knight made a parent
Calls it
A day
This epic poem, in both length and theme, plays within the abyss of skepticism and bids a certain openness prerequisite to fully experiencing mystery often hidden in the shadowy places of the heart. Spiritual discernment can peer as but a pin prick in a dark and distant heaven, or it can peer as a guiding star, even blazing sun. In your life as a spiritual being, may you find guiding stars in the deepest, darkest nights, and blazing suns purifying you with fire during your high noons.
