Sonnet — Daily Poetry for The Master of Works #93

The night is alive, the night is alive,
A dire alarm seizes the senses five,
The soul shudders in awed surprise
For something in the night now stirs.

The night is alive, the night is alive,
All turns blue-black to waking eye
In a formidable tangle of tresses
Older than time and unborn the stars.

The night is alive, the night is alive,
To wills that strive, an answer doth arrive,
A flame-tongue red laps the universe,
All is bathed in a glory brutal and fierce.

A clutch of words gasp out of fainting lips,
“Hail Mother, hail! Thou art all there is!”