A RAY OF SIGH

It’s fleeting

 

              this being something matter-made

              in the cold gut of eternal darkness.

​

See, the clouds no longer carry a burden,

grey, troublesome, solemn -

 

                 they carry nothing.

​
 

When I look at you

​

               and your face fails to hide

               your immaculate humanity,

​

somewhere, I’m sure, it dawns.

Concentric circles appear at the point of

transference - 

​

                   water and skin.

​
 

Now, as part of the now

and as the wholeness of time’s fluidity.

 

Isn’t it strange?

 

              How in the space of attempting to understand

              our frailty, we become a no-thing,

 

that needs no understanding.

See, memory is but a story -

 

a chain explosion of voices, smells, feelings,

                  burnt pieces of bread,

 

                  and spilled coffee.

 

When I look into the palms of grief,

 

             and the seasons of the Earth

             and the depths of the cosmos 

 

amalgamate, somewhere, I’m sure, 

existence falls out of existing.

 

Broken up bird song appears at the point of

a fading day - 

               sound and air.

 

Now, as a part of me, 

and as the wholeness of you -

 

you                     you                     you

 

as a part of me
and as the wholeness of all there is -

 

fleeting.