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
    With 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, "Of Poets", "The Wanderer", "Before Sunrise", "The Drunken Song")

Peter Saint-Andre > Writings > Nietzsche