I walk along the edge alone,
the margins of the deep inflamed with sun-toned splendor,
the sky above engulfed in radiant spangled light,
as night met day or day met night,
when light and color fought with dark—
implanting hope and awe and, Hark!
My soul now soars on silent wings,
with shock and reverence, esteem and fear,
I loose the heavy band of earth that clings
and claws and draws and paws me to its blear,
its drear and smear and blinded gear
that threatens tear and and jeer and empty sphere.
Now overhead I soar with upward swing
and view the joy that heaven brings:
I see a city there above the clouds
shining bright, shining proud,
while earth-bound denizens lie cowed
and bowed and plowed,
with no lofty thoughts endowed,
tenuous life all soon to disappear.
But I walk along the edge alone:
the margins of the deep call out to me,
the sky breathes down its majesty
and light meets dark or night meets day—
forces in my heart at play—
when bright comes forth to vanquish dark,
inflicting joy and lasting mark.
I on the edge of deep look up and know
the unseen forces up above,
though barely sensed down here below,
still shower light down, sent in love.
- D. Benning
