Draw Near

Draw near, and with certitude throw back the sashes that veil the brightness of celestial lights. Their curious spring is as morn, and as birth from thwarted death.

Carefully, gently, raise thy hand to that sill and breach, at last, that narrow space by which such wistful love might pass and rest upon a soul racked taut by interim too long extended.

Had expectancy been stretched only for a day or other brief measure, it may blossoming now be. For hope, in an eternal dance, could prevent not her own joining, so that we might be accompanied.

Rather those apportionments, one by one, subdued and wrested, draw down with them again the sash, and conceal the light beyond.

Beseech I must, leave open - pull wide - that shutter once more. For hypnotic is the light from those heavenly globes. Light that labors of its own unavoidable ambition.

Come near and pass through and with confidence sever the tethers that hinder splendid absolution, so we may breathe that budding fragrance of imperishability.

Yet, rest. Rest and do not strain. Truth itself, should it be willed, shall burst the panes themselves and by exalted silence shall shatter the need for breaching of spaces or the drawing of sashes.

© Rachelle LeCount

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