Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: Communication Breakdown (12/16/10)
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TITLE: On At Dawn - Off At Dusk | Previous Challenge Entry
By Loren T. Lowery
12/21/10 -
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Secured
Twenty feet
Above dark portals
On weathered,
Red-stained
Boards,
Sputters in
Twilight’s slow approach.
Sensor Light,
Made to cast
Piercing light
Upon
Shadowed soil.
On at dusk
Off at dawn -
What confounds your
Design?
Glass sheathed cornea
Locked in
Unblinking stares -
Sightless
But to
Dawn’s awakening
Blind but to
Day’s looming slumber.
Understanding centered
In simple perceptions
Of cockcrow and cicadas call.
Welcome sun
That causes you
Sleep -
Darkness
Your appointed
Vigil.
Wretched Lantern,
What causes you
To hold your light
Inside?
What words hinder
Your hounding
Of darkness
Into the hills?
What message
Sways you
The duty
To which you were assigned?
What directive
Do you not understand?
Starlight does not halt
Your work -
Even in cloudless skies
You shine!
Night scudded heavens -
Cause you to glisten
In sheening shatters.
Partial moonlight
Is held hostage
In your burning luster.
What then foils
Your circuitry?
In the chalked halo
Of the full moon
Your own light
Lies strangled.
Feeble, if at all,
It sputters.
Art thou mortal,
Sensor Lamp,
To fall as man doest fall
Before
The inestimable beauty
Of the full moon?
Do the diagrams and instructions
Read and programmed
Into your deepest fissure
Fizzle in the moon’s
Allure?
On at dusk
Off at dawn
Simply stated
Easily understood
Yet even this
Bewilders your acuity
In the calm of the
Moon’s bewitching charms.
My mind tires
To re-set
Your course,
In constant
Admonitions.
Dare I fault you
For falling prey
To this temptress –
The full moon?
As even now my conscience
Shakes her finger over such
Thoughts.
Yet man was made for such
foibles.
Not entities
Such as you.
You, Dear Halogen,
Can be returned to vendor
For not performing as you were made,
Ex post facto.
Mortals, however,
Are graced to
Work out our faults
Before being called back home.
Nullen crimen.
Forgiven.
In the moon’s soft,
But potent corona
I consider this.
I see an extension ladder,
Cold and wet in the morning dew.
I consider the work –
As well as the time
And distance to
Your origin.
I sigh.
Not every night
Is a full moon,
I think.
And others have put up
With less perfection from me.
So, you are safe.
At least this night,
Dear Beacon.
On at dusk
Off at dawn.
Stay focused,
I completely understand.
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What words hinder
Your hounding
Of darkness
Into the hills?
I did say I liked this piece, didn't I?