• Andrew D. Clark

Atrium





Pupils widen in waning opal darkness,

The temple now in view.


Hold in eyes of open minds;

Of wise and noble few.











My mind is harsh,

Stripping all the wood from broken trees.


Through solitude I know,

That I am not alone.











My love is half hidden,

But clear and open is my voice.


The way lies ahead,

Shrouded in the leaves.









Now that there is silence,

I can listen.