Black roses blooming in my soul
My heart surrounded by shadow
And in my dreams

I walk stagnant streams
or sink into sea weed sodden seas
Once

my silver silo contained golden grain
Nothing's there but empty shadows now
If I could steal this grief

and toss it to the wind
for a moment it would blow away
and then return again

I can only pray
that from the darkness I've received
a better thing will be conceived

So I harvest black roses in the night
hoping their dark petals will transform soon
to petals of light.

c. Douglas Fireman

From Rilke's 'Book of Hours.'

You, darkness, of whom I am born-
I love you more than the flame
that limits the world
to the circle it illumines
and excludes all the rest.
But the darkness embraces everything:
shapes and shadows, creatures and me,
people, nations–just as they are.
It lets me imagine
a great presence stirring beside me.
I believe in the night.

I hope I didn't wake the neighbors,
but frankly, this thing scared
the hell out of me.

I haven't screamed since my kid
popped out of the clothes hamper.
It's embarrassing!

I thought the whole thing was a dream.
But when I looked again,
I saw the beast duck behind

the maple tree. My wife
won't believe a word I've said,
and thinks,

I'm totally crazy. And here I sit,
my heart still pounding; my scream,
resounding in my head.

The neighbors called to tell me
how appalled they'd been.
Just popped another valium.

I have the urge to look again.
I tip toe to the window.
And there, beside the maple tree,

I see the beast
and notice how it
resembles me...

c. Douglas Fireman

I manipulated the original pic,
a flower in my wife's garden,
and added a touch of paint.