Friday, April 09, 2010

Michael E Stone: BLACK BEAUTY

The obsidian I brought back,
Looks black, opaque.
But held to the light,
has clear, translucent stripes.
Smoky hard fragility,
Fused in Vulcanʹs fire,
Black‐veined, textured
with lucid patches.
All through some hills
are veins of black glass,
Its blackness is beauty.
On a mount facing Araʹs,
I found a stone knife,
chipped from obsidian rock
of old.
I am black and beautiful,
She sings in the Song,
and through her blackness
the Groom becomes lucent.

No comments: