Cavernborn Poem by Christian Thomas Scott

The bitter chill of icy breath
Sweeps lightly over passing day
And marking willful sadness takes
The new approach of scornful daze.
To simply weave a web of wonder,
Watching wakeful world's lust,
In presence of the cavern's thunder,
Cradled voices speak of trust.
The rising moon and setting earth
Resound in low harmonious waves,
Yet speaking silence now renounced
The stillness of the living days.
Let peaks of light obtain a view,
Of glory and the globed array,
And gleaming sounds upon the graves
Lead love and death and life away.