17. Ode to Causeless Sadness
By JH Sayyar
1
O thou, pale guest with melancholy eyes,
Who came unbidden beneath the summer skies!
When roses, burn and skylarks hymn the day
What wind hath blown thy silent shroud this way?
No shadow heralds thee, no trumpet calls,
Yet in thy wake the golden spirit falls.
2
Thou ghostly breath, thou mist without a name,
No wound thou leave, yet all joy is lame.
The soul, once lit with morning’s vibrant hue,
Now drinks thy gray, unseasoned, soundless dew.
What art thou, shade? No tale dost thou declare,
And still thou steal the sweetness from the air.
3
No lover, lost, no war-torn home I see,
No grave freshly heaped belongs to me;
Yet through my veins thy silent poison glides,
And in my mirth, thy whispering shadow bides.
Thou need not a reason nor a right
Thou art the twilight born of noon’s own light.
4
Where dost thou dwell? In memory unborn
In unborn grief, in happiness outworn?
Dost thou arise from thought that cannot speak!
Or from the hidden hollows of the weak
Perhaps a sigh from some ancestral breast
Still clings to blood and will not let me rest.
5
Yet I, thy host, do not revile thy grace,
Thou bring a hush—a depth—unto my face
Thy sorrow is a mirror turned within,
Where joy is shallow, but thy tears begin
A spring more pure than laughter ever found
The soul in silence touches sacred ground.
6
Stay, then, awhile, thou veiled and formless friend,
Though none can chart thy source, nor guess thy end.
For even in thy chill, a truth appears:
That hearts are deeper than their known fears.
And in thy gloom, I find a kindred sign
That causeless sadness, too, is half-divine.
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