Ode to Innere Notwendigkeit

( Author's Note: The English translation of the title to this poem is:
"The Inner Need". Its inspiration is derived from Wassily Kandinsky's
"Concerning the Spiritual In Art". Kandinsky is considered the father
of Modern Abstract Expressionism.)




At the shadows of twilight
when the cadmium sphere is washed by the sea,
the cerulean band which shone like crystal,
bright as lapis lazuli-
translucent to endless heavens-
I sit and watch its golden layers flee
like frightened vapors scattering in air,
trailing away , ever fainter, ever weaker,
as the azure mirrors laid stretched across the sea.
When arrives the mystic moment of dream-silence
where the solitude of night awakens
colors the ears have not heard,
sounds the eyes not seen.


And with the dim of evening air
descends a world of contracting florescence.
Impinging its sacrilege, the vesperal invader
spares no image
untouched.
From the blurred horizon to the moon's height
plays the waning dirge.
Departed, the iridescent shades of day
scraped from Nature's canvas
as with a scapel, leaving
heaven's blue dome
vaulted,
void,
glazed.

The tones of day no longer seen,
its sounds as quiet as dead.


The monotone of cicada song
soothes my eyes with blue.
My ears ring with murmur
of the violet wind.
Ivory moonbeams cool
the burnt umbered earth, echoing
the sound of rumbling waves
as the night owl cast his vigilence
like the ocher rays of day.
I hear the rainbow play
its colored xylophone,
see the bat's sharp call
in the deep it flies alone.
And the clouds upon their sailing rack
dance the minuet above
the garden bloom of roses
pink,
white
and red.
The sounds of the night,
the colors of the day;
the sounds of day,
the colors of night.


And I revolving
midst this panorama
that I create as with a click!
a camera that needs no light, no day
to frame the image of my illusions,
nor sanctioned as to time or place,
for my eyes may hear
and my ears may see
what the heart desires to feel-
every hue,
every sound,
every dream which exist-
all are of the spirit
which is free,
which is me.


Copyright 2009 Francis Don Daniels