This Quintessence of Dust*

Such grav'ty swallowing our years
And pinning down our dreams-
We hide our sight with fragile wings,
With salvatory themes;
When hanging from the world-tree's branch
We make a per'lous choice:
Rise up when all the world goes dim,
Or fall and then rejoice.

Our vision's always clearest when
such darkness binds the soul-
Weak negatives of our true selves
Developed, render whole.

--Megan Morris, meikundayo@yahoo.com

*Hamlet, Act II, Scene II 

Special thanks to Bina for the title of this poem, as well as for 
helping me put it into something much closer to its current form 
than its original one (and at 2 in the morning, too!).