They say
a light shines in the darkness
which the dark can't comprehend
They say
she lived her life
like a candle in the wind
They say
life's but a walking shadow
until that brief candle is put out
And all the time the suggestion is
we are all lights
divided by an abyss of darkness perhaps,
occasionally visible to each other,
but otherwise alone and lost,
But they are wrong.
There is no darkness, only light,
everywhere and always,
light.
light.
There are closed eyes,
that open twice,
at the beginning and the end of life;
and in between there is a dream
when we imagine we can turn away
from what is already within us.
when we imagine we can turn away
from what is already within us.
I altered this slightly ... there was a middle section I took out to make the piece simpler and more direct.
ReplyDeleteThis has become a separate poem:
The mountaineers
And they stretch,
they reach out
each from the separate summit
of their high conquest,
aching to touch each other so badly
their hands summon strange blossoms
from the ground far below,
strange swelling bulbs of light
on stems of dust
rising from soil
rich with powdered and anonymous bone
as if they could simply extend their hand
from the mountain top on which they dwell
and reap this stroboscopic crop
and make of it a nuclear bouquet
with which to woo each other.