July 14, 2009
Outside, it’s pitch, and the only sounds I hear
Are occasional cars; and howling coyotes nearby—
It’s past midnight, I think to my Self. The Christmas lights are on in the patio.
So, tip-toeing in the darkness, I sway as the wind chills me inside.
I see the moonlight—"It’s past midnight, all you...!"
I say aloud. But no one hears me. So, I ask as loudly,
How do I reinvent my Self? Being that my Self is nearly over—
I’m asking the dark...I'm tired...the dark is elusive, the moon beams proudly.
A blanket of stars comes forth, and these eyes intensify—
I must admit I never really heard myself think through the darkness,
But, I’m by my self, this late dark night, passed midnight—
And it seems an enchanting moment that I wish to caress.
I let go of my desperate desire to mirror the models,
To look at my own reflection, and arrest my self-loathing—
I listen to the quiet, looking out into nothingness,
And calling me...a voice: don't ignore your breathing—
All’s quiet on the western front tonight— is what I hear.
Go back to sleep, my dear…the stars say, all will be better in the morning's light…
Go back to sleep…
Outside it’s pitch black. Sounds I hear
Are coyote howls, shaking trees —and me....
Its midnight: my courage gives way to fear,
But now I look up and see the stars shine brightly, again
Guiding me—my journey out into the cold earth’s horizon....
I left the Christmas lights on around the patio—yes: the boundary.
That sways in the wind. They flicker, as if winking, too
Pantomiming the moonlight—but unlike that great star...
How do I reinvent my self? I’m thinking, now it’s coming daylight.
When all my Youthful years have passed me by—
I feel tired. The dark is dubious. The road winds into the unknown....
A blanket of stars came forth earlier; intensified, before leaving, then said:
Don’t worry: we will light your way; God—will surely light your way.
I admit I never really hear myself think—
I much prefer to listen to the stars, the skies, the wind, and the trees...and others...
Until I’m by my self, late... passed midnight— and then I hear me breathe.
I realize I’m the only one here, so finally, I listen to me.
“Let go,” I tell my Self, “of that desperate desire to mirror the models.”
And I see my own reflection on the glass table, “try and rest easy tonight—“
I Listen intently to the quiet; looking into nothingness,
Peace is calling out to me; Fear is trying to muffle the sound.
But, again: All’s quiet on the western front tonight—I hear.
Remember the Journey is for eternity—I hear.
Only believe—that is what I hear.
Then, I go inside to rest.