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 STAR-CROSSED

 The sun sulks, eclipsed,

 denying us another day.

In a series of silent nights,

a fluorescent moon hovers overhead, 

our eye in the sky…

watching,                       

then blown aside by winds of ire

from stirring Giant on high.    

 

Timid raindrops crawl across a telephone wire

like cautious children anticipating a slide…

waiting

as the heavens unfold pounding its wrath upon us– 

angry thunder in rolling arpeggios

storms down with vengeance.

 

It took thousands of years

for the universe to arrange for us to meet by chance

–a chance of a lifetime;

Then a lifetime of chances

squandered by our witless folly and misdeeds.

Unrealized. Unfulfilled–

Callow youth and shallow beauty

fading into senescence and sleep. 

 

The city mourns.  Autumn tolls for her dead.

Summer has been slain–

her fruits lay lifeless, deserted in decay.

Soon Winter shall come to cover and conceal

silently effacing all traces that we ever were.

SLOW DANCING

I have no volition

beyond the last  look you left in my eyes,
your last touch cold upon my skin.

The press of an unfulfilled quest

impels us us onward

beyond all reason and restraint–

slow dancing a choreographed waltz 

 until the music stops.

 The steamy tango has melted into memory.

 The bonds that hold us unbind–
Frayed ties unfastening 

as we extricate ourselves from 

the promises written as Scripture to live by

to be renounced and left lorn;

The mode, the manner and the tempo has yet to be decided.

No one wants to be the first to say goodbye.

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WHERE WOULD I GO?

I absconded into night, taking the darkness with me
so there would be no shadows on your eyes when morning awoke;
that beams of light sifting through the windows,
could bathe your face, coaxing your lids to open.

No need to search for where I am.
Where would I go?
I dwell in the interim between and beyond earth and sky,  –everywhere and nowhere, where Time is not–beyond reach of each;
Yet I harbor the vicissitudes of both states in every thought you have of me,
every word you speak of me, in every memory you know as me.
My voice resounds in your laughter,
reverberates like cathedral bells calling the faithful.
Look above. The saturated clouds are swollen
with your tears I weep.
Look below, look within. There is no place I am not.
I am the sun on your shoulders
when you walk to the ocean’s edge
and cast your eyes on the shimmering necklace
that clings to the shoreline,
blinking like diamonds as it washes across the sand;
the surge of joy, gratitude, and humility you feel swelling within you like the tide itself. 

Do not mourn.
Listen to the earth’s soul breathing in and breathing out.
Let it wash over you, pulling away the barnacles.
Every time you count the colors of blue in the ocean,
watch the birds soar into infinity,
or see the miracle of a bud bursting into flower,
I will  exist in all these things.
When I walked through the door, taking the darkness with me,
I found…. not death, but life.

IN MEMORIAM: On the death of a friend

YOU SHALL NOT FADE

When the Seasons are measured on my face
and settle across my brow
and the rattling bones of Winter moan
with bent and broken boughs;
When its final breath and hoary death
is a shroud hanging o’er my eyes,
You shall not fade. The masquerade is…
only the form will die.

When Autumn looms,
confetti colored leaves start turning brown
in a grand ballet
—their fated way of returning to the ground.
In the journey back from whence they came
–a secret lies therein–
You shall not fade.
You always were and will be once again.

On zephyr breeze,
the yawning buds will herald the coming Spring
with butterflies and buttercups
and mountain streams that sing.
For eyes to see and ears to hear
lies the secret of all forms–
You shall not fade.
Within the seed you are the yet unborn.

Summer smiles on fields of daisies
laughing in its face
trying to outrun the sun,
but Destiny awaits.
What comes along, will also go
within a world of change.
You shall not fade.
You always are, and you alone remain.

 

 

THE HOMECOMING

Time limps by slowly,

clocks wind down, ticking off years 

in hushed tones of adagio,                              

 breathing deeply the vanished vapors of yore.

 For the morrow is measured,

  a station through which we pass

 — the flicker of a flame-

like someone’s name, now extinguished,

destined to be forgotten.

 First, there is love. Then there is loss–

 a gardenia turned brown with the human touch.

 And when the unbearable burden became too much 

 the rains came down the face of pain.

The sun fell into night,

drenched in darkness, then burned out, in exile.

All  I once held with a drowning man’s grasp

slips between my clenched fingers,

and I  watch them float by, letting go.

Such courage…

to leap with no guarantee,

with no arms to catch me;

to take the plunge

–to disappear beneath the thin veneer–

 toward the homecoming… into Being.

Do I have that courage?  Yes.

Where thou hast led me, O Time,

What thou hast shown me, O Life,

I have received willingly, effectively.