Alone at Night
This late pacific night is flat and dark
The many guiding stars have lost their glow
Even the nightingale withholds remark
Appears all life ceased until tomorrow
There’s certain pleasure in a sightless night
Life’s confusing labyrinth made to yield
Its many paths made straight within your sight
Discovering ways that wounds can be healed
In the darkness let your mind be your eye
To the sea’s cold crushing depths let it dive
To the unconquered mountains let it fly
In this compelling world learn to survive
Thoughts this night created must guide your life
Left to another there’s apt to be strife
Edwin Lord Weeks, A Game of Chess (c. 1900)
A Game of Chess, Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
Life, as Chess, is a game of strategy,
And chance, with the outcome known early on,
Determined by players’ ability.
Here for sure, the loser will be the Kahn.
It appears, she has made, all the right moves.
He’s vulnerable with no defenses.
In turn, important pieces she removes.
Game but over, he’s lost all his senses.
She has done more, than just capture his king.
It’s she who decides, the kind of action.
Now the game, will be all of her making.
To be done, to her full satisfaction.
Unlike chess, life can produce two winners.
Being in love makes them co-prisoners.
Frederic Edwin Church, Above the Clouds at Sunrise (1849)
Above the Clouds at Sunrise, Robert Sieczkiewicz
Yesterday I climbed a mountain so high,
To see the valley below at sunrise.
Had no name so now it is Mount Sinai.
Woke today to be greeted by surprise.
Was in Heaven for I’m above the clouds.
The glow, was it the sun or was it He?
Again looking down I see all the shrouds.
Yelled so loud, hoping someone answers me.
A touch of hallowed calmness did I feel.
Felt my face, it appeared to be real.
Looked at my hands, steady, nerves were of steel.
Wrapped in confidence was now full of zeal.
Now I know, my human life has ended,
And now with Him I am, Oh how splendid.
Mountain of the Holy Cross, Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
As did Moses I come to a mountain,
Not for garnering Thy holy promise,
But to drink the waters from Thy fountain,
And off’r my soul to You without remiss.
My heart is as cold as is the water,
With Thy divine spirit it will soon warm.
Let me not be among Thy rejecters,
For faith will protect me from any storm.
Touching the waters I now feel renewed,
To challenge whatev’r evil I may face,
Destroying it with Thy heavenly food,
Giving thanks to You that I have Thy grace.
Though the path be rough you are at my side,
As there is none bett’r to have for a guide.
As the caption under the painting states this painting was done by Thomas Moran in 1875. The painting is based on a natural phenomenon that caused quite a stir. His painting is not a depiction of an actual view as he added embellishments. An link to an article which give additional information can seen by clicking below.
The photo below was taken by William Henry Jackson, circa 1875.