Midnight Song

by Peter Saint-Andre

At midnight comes a second noon,
When time again stands still.
The bell rings twelve and all too soon
I feel I've had my fill

Of life - but she knows well I love
Her more than being wise.
Although pure knowledge lies above
Confusion, still it lies.

The poets' gods and overmen
Are wraithlike, pale, and cold —
Like moonlight in comparison
To sunlight's warming gold.

At midnight, fountains of delight
Speak louder than my fate.
Alone I live in unquenched light
I give and generate.

The curse of perfect solitude
Is something that I bless.
I climb above my finitude
To say a sacred Yes.

(cf. Thus Spoke Zarathustra, passim)

Peter Saint-Andre > Writings > Nietzsche