Everything’s going well, <br />you seem to have everything arranged <br />as you like it: you glance into <br />the banqueting hall, the chandelier <br />sparkles above the laden, enticing table; <br />there’s the scent of perfection <br /> <br />then the lights go out. <br />Worse, there’s a note <br />in the butler’s pantry: <br />gone elsewhere; you’re in charge. <br /> <br />No notice given, not a hint; it was <br />all going so well.. where’s <br />the fuse box? Candles? <br />Torches? <br /> <br />You remember, what they said <br />but it didn’t mean anything at the time: <br />when you’ve sorted it all out yourself <br />you’ll be like a different person. <br /> <br />Then - everything becomes a delight; <br />everything lit up and sparkling; <br />fragrance and scent around all things; <br />every single thing, its own special flavour.<br /><br />Michael Shepherd<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-dark-night-of-the-soul-2/
