Black on Black

Listen to me, darling,
dark angel of
polished mahogany:

here, naked in the wintry depths I stand;
black on black I cast for shadow
there, mired ere I grasped that fragile hand.

Here, Warrior of the World I am
my blade hath enemies enough;
snow swirling gray on gray,

for blood is mostly clear;
the liquid thrown from Judas' ear
was the same pale yellow as this wan sun.

Hear me, darling,
solace in this
unrelenting night:

even heavens casts a shadow,
and to thought a mind
might easily descend as if

the night were empty, terror
a thing of dreams and waking.
And then the dream-giver asks,

"What becomes of night-endings
and leave-takings, when into dreams
they forever fall into twilight?"

Here me, darling:
thou art simply my Chosen Hue
in this black on black.