Solstice darkness persists longer
than sun’s extended rays which reach
my fingertips eight minutes later
than when they first sizzled
out of their thermogenic home.
Electromagnetic radiation warms
cool blue earth, invisibly touches
In the chill of Cimmerian nights,
we wait for tender light to pierce
the crepuscular twilight.
Underneath December’s star,
silence stirs the night,
souls transgress, progress.
Recollect perpetual anticipation,
the deep agony of waiting in darkness
with hope of morning light.
Let heat of long-awaited star touch you,
ignite long-awaited desire,
your spirit a smoldering wick,
spangling streaks in caliginous expanse.
Witness the world’s pain cauterized by a birth,
humanity’s death incinerated
by a small heavenly body
gifted to creation.
Prasanta Verma, a poet, writer, and artist, is a member of The Contemplative Writer team. Born under an Asian sun, raised in the Appalachian foothills, Prasanta currently lives in the Midwest, is a mom of three, and also coaches high school debate. You can find her on Twitter @ pathoftreasure, Instagram prasanta_v_writer, and at her website: https://pathoftreasure.wordpress.com/.