A Spirit’s Monologue

I
Spirit speak, assert
this solemn night
detaching myself from
the other Spirit crowds,
do hereby speak, assert:

'I am the Spirit that because
of the sad heart
rose from the ashes
yesterday and airing
me
as with a wand a tempest
brought upon the woods
just outside of Floriana
going to Msida.

I brought the chill
that then extended
blowing Zephyr-like
to old Valletta

How frosty the streets grew
trembled the lights
of the old lamps romantic
trembled the starlight
over Floriana and Valletta
but not the stars.

Then not content
I brought the heavy clouds
placed them
over Floriana and
then old Valletta
and unfurled the edges
of the fleecy clouds
how many drizzles fell
that joining in a
cumulus
as in Fibonacci numbers
grew and grew
and brought rains that
thundered on the streets
and bent the heads of trees
made the boughs tremble
and the leaves turn yellow.

hOur after hour
passed: I brought
the thunder
the lightning rose
from over the Port
coming and going.

And those were times
And those I did
in centuries of past
Still do will do
in centuries to come
For Beauty's sake
And the Sub-conscious.

No Dawn stood in the way.
Continued
the tempest that
I held as
puppet on a string
thundering lightning
and raining.
No less the chill,
the frost.

But alack! Dawn at last
with her fiery entourage
on the distant horizon
appearing
stopped I and slid
as fast clouds glide
over the turbid heavens.

And those were times
And those I did
in centuries of past
Still do will do
in centuries to come
For Beauty's sake
And the Sub-conscious.

by Emmanuel George Cefai

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