Late Summer's Eve

[Guest guest]

Late summer's eve, and wine-dark

dusk emerges earlier now, as if

the shadows have always lingered

just behind the façade of light,

patiently biding their time,

confident that the inevitable procession of the

planet will favor them once more,

full of the promise of pinpoint starlight

birthing and fading within the vast ocean of

mute darkness, silent eternal night,

and by the lake the mosquito swarms have thickened,

tiny beings dizzy with desire,

clueless in philosophies of birth and death,

drawn by some anciently encoded impulse to the

ecstasy of evening, life feeding upon life,

drinking deeply of itself, intoxicated with the simplicity of

innocent desire, the search and satisfaction, and then the

search once more, in never ending cycles of urgent humming

yearning, yearning beyond comprehension,

free of any doubt or question, in absolute submission to

that which beats their wings, their hearts, that

pushes their blood to seek more blood, and

blinds them to the swift approach of

the devouring dragonfly.

 

The wind,

momentarily respectful of the vanishing light,

once more gathers itself to push between the

temporary leaves of the darkening trees,

flowing freely, filled with songs few ever hear,

spilling rough sinewy kisses along the branches which

extend their reach to express the same force which

births the wind, whirling insects, wheeling star shine, and

the wonder of worlds upon worlds of fervent endless mindless

yearning – the same force whispering through every beat of

every heart right now, every breath, every brilliant

unbearably beautiful body of life.

 

Being pauses in the midst of Itself to contemplate

Itself as You and I. We have wandered along this path

with no idea of its beginning nor conception of its end.

First bewildered, then amazed, we stagger in a daze of

Delight, fitted to each other as the water to the lake, the lake

we circumnabulate in the darkness of our Loving, reflecting

a mysterious Light unborn in space and inextinguishable in time.

Any man or moth would give its eyes for but a flashing glimpse of

such a Light, but it cannot be seen with the eyes in the head.

Eyes can see, but not themselves, and so we name this Light

"The Mysterious Unseen", for we are loving even words, this night

now cloaked in the darkened silken garment of the Light.

 

This Loving Light has broken our tongue to pieces, little fragments

skittering off on feet of poetry and winking whispers, colluding with

the nights' vague shapes that seem to swirl around our ankles

in a kind of dancing rapture even sufis dream to imitate.

We smile, then burst into the laughter of children re-born

in the unconditional embrace of each other for Itself.

We could never have enough of this Kissing, this

Light burning, blazing in the heart of a

late summer's eve, tonight.

 

 

LoveAlways,

 

b