august 20, 2020

Out My Window

Leaves golden with green ice, drip the thawed new sunshine of the morning, baby waves, tickling and trembling, nothing more precious. I love you, komorebi green, light shining through anything—ears, eyelids, curtains, the blackness of space and time.

Light always arrives, no matter the distance. Let it touch you, feel it’s warmth. You’ve waited your whole life to be touched.

Quiver, it’s okay to feel the jostle of controlled keys as the ring falls out of the pocket, into a tinkling singing mess on the floor, a pile of freedom formerly feigned, unlocking closeness and thwarted dream space; banishing the longing that has pained, for the longing that creates and moves and spins toward the object of desire, the center fold black hole where all light drains away, becoming more than fire.