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“The midnight hand Stands upright, Caught for an instant In the pitching chime Of dead day, The hush cries, freedom! And is strangled in the rush Of tomorrow's potential. The midnight hour, When time is still, A shrill gasp of passion unspent, A sour taste Of bent magic In a god's tragic World.” — Gordon Roddick, 1963
The midnight hand
Stands upright,
Caught for an instant
In the pitching chime
Of dead day,
The hush cries, freedom!
And is strangled in the rush
Of tomorrow's potential.
The midnight hour,
When time is still,
A shrill gasp of passion unspent,
A sour taste
Of bent magic
In a god's tragic
World.