I dreamed the sun was too bright

And hiding in darkness I could not see.

Are we the blind leading the blind?

Or does some divine light illumine you

Which I miss in myself?

How can a person be familiar who you have never met

Or homelike who you have…

Setting sun

Most beautiful before it departs

You were glorious

Before saying goodnight

The benediction you gave

Before darkness came.

In trials we cannot see.

Only through flames

Which destroy…

You hide your face,

You bought with precious crimson

Flowing from merciful side,

You costly stone of azure,

Cold and distant as the stars.

Where do you lead me?

You specks of luminance

Circling in ebony folds of night.

Where the stars are it is always night.

She rises for prayer each midnight hour

But instead beholds only your face,

You who were hidden before

Now appear unwanted.

It was the spirit who broods over,

Guards her soul

which awakened her for the prayer

That pours forth

From the inner chamber of her heart,

As if some Guest were making

Some speech of thanksgiving into the night.

My initiation into Chet Baker was while babysitting for a high school teacher; he left an Italian movies soundtrack spinning on his record player when he left. Although that was the night I began to love Chet, I had heard of him before — a name written on a paper…

Sleep winds its tortuous way

Difficult to find.

Are there pools of water here?

Tell me, my dear, is this an illusion or a lake

Or perhaps the Jordan

With the Promised Land on opposite banks.

Did I imagine being so close to drawing in its waters?

They say death…

Abby Prior

Orthodox Christian, writer and poet

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