The Birth - I

Such dour skies
between my life and me -
the air we see
the words we breathe
live sense inside our heads
teach us how to be
in tragedy.

The masque is played
the curtain down
and clouds that cross the sun
obscure the view of light
their lowering weight
both the needy and the free.

But far up there -
beyond the purple wall of massing cloud,
beyond all of our endeavour
and our loss -
shines a proud relentless eye
a gaze both firm and strong
and our imagination
that somewhere 
is there sun,
somewhere are we warm,
and somewhere under clearer skies
is a life reborn.
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