Night Vision

Strolling under arbor
And a blanket of chill
In the dark, where
All is still.

And alive,
The stars and the moon,
Out for what has come
To study the spaces.

Crowded 'round
For the narrator's keen
Story
Being told.

Impressionist musings
The artist imparts
Leading the moon
To illumine its expanse.

Rants and praise and silence
The stars enjoy
Emitting from the eyes
Of this boy.

Meadow green and darkened wood
Take shape and personality
And sway their blades and limbs
In satisfaction.

Afterward, tired, laying prostrate
Then turning 'round
He notices
Every sound.

And smell. And taste.
And feel. And blessed sights galore.
That come alive when the world around
Ignores.

A sacred space away
From the matrix
Where they seem to forget
Their own names, and the stories of the night.

Wishing he could take that moment
Into the day
But realizing
He cannot stay.

Melancholy & Triumph

While wide eyes gaze
And colors move
Beneath the haze
A boom.

Tension begins to rise
Under the thump of a tired heart
That beats again, but slowly still
A curtain raising, quickly.

Beating rays of anticipation
Against uncertainty
But arms raise high and sing a blast
Of harmony and hope.

And the colors move
While to stage right
The movement stills
The actor sighs.

Every breathe is understood
And every shuffle heard
While broken, he nearly faints.
As green becomes red becomes blue.

And standing firm, a darkness falls
But on to center stage
Abruptly, with determination
He stands true, and wise, and tall.

And they listen,
And the silence moves among them
With the colors rich in hue
Transforming the room into a neighborhood.

(Re)Emerging

Under some new strange gray haze
I paced my walk and felt the breeze.
The afterglow of dreams and days
Would serve to show the way.

There, for months, I sped the map
An endless crowd of visions...
Of peace, of change, of life.
And breathed the air that saved me.

But stricken, a plague of sentiment
Danced between my toes.
Up a hill and down a path
When the world lost track of time...

A medley of cracks and bumps
Peculiar satisfaction
Of mocking destined drive.

Changing rhythm,
A changing mind...
Gasping with the pace of memory. Sublime.

A view of the bay, and heaven's door
A view of new life, of me
Would pass.

But for a time the neighborhood
Would last.
When the world lost track of time...

A cup of blissful roasted joy
Drank me out of sleep
But the songs of others crept about me, and I was unsure... but conscious.

However bare my wit lay, hidden.
And there was the quickening, and possibility.
Always, the oceans pulled up a seat to my discussion, honest and fair.

Two eyes burned without cooling,
And two limbs began to fall...
Until the cloud began to part, for me.

The whole world fell out of chaos and into Being
Because I thought it so
And this, in all its subtlety, was pure Magnificence.

Against this passing background is where I danced and played
In and out of rhythms, away from the crux
When the world lost track of time...

And it was the dance that gave me courage
That drove me to that place where all
My futures would converge, into the harmonic chimes of wind.

And it came alive within me,
The dawn of heaven's gaze
That had once consumed me
Now froze me, in a blanket of warmth.

From the great ocean,
I had pressed and flown
Into a secret hidden door...
A waking, but unusually in void.

Until the walking under moonlight

Where a wing flapped and soared

And singing, the air was full of morning.

(And the world lost track of time,
In a cloudless glow, surrounded.)