2014 12 31
Warm soft wind brushes against my skin and purrs
when I stroll in languid pleasure from home
after long winter of bone-slicing cold,
to savor sweet scent of blossoming trees
just starting to stir awake in sunrays.
When we look through telescopes at the stars
we are looking into the distant past,
so the bright stars may be crowded with planets
teeming thick with conscious creatures like us,
but we cannot yet see them since star light
speeds through the vast cosmos millions of years
and has not yet beamed in our dreaming eyes.
I love to time-travel in an airplane,
to zoom thousands of miles in a few hours,
far faster than years it would take to walk
across continents and around the world.
I carve map of dreams in dry river mud
to escape tangled limbs of clinging fear,
then follow light beams streaming through rain clouds
that form your face when you smile down at me.
Piercing cry of wordless hope from cold mist
flashes my mind awake from sunless dream.
My footsteps write my tale in wave-washed sand.
I must confess, I have Nyctophilia,
love for quiet darkness of soothing night,
when everyone dances in land of dreams.
I ate pasta for lunch with sweet port wine
and now I am feeling smooth, suave, and fine,
so I stroll slow in warm Georgia sunshine,
thinking about people dying in wars.
Friends will come and go like swift ocean waves,
but faithful friends will stay with you forever,
like an octopus clinging to your face.
Now I understand grief of yellow leaves
plastered by rain all over new white car,
faces of ones I loved in photographs.
Backwards from deep abyss of broken time,
who will try to fly on wings of desire
and soar blind over vast ocean of dreams?
Nothing unusual tonight will occur,
this last dark night of the calendar year.
Just another night in history of time,
our planet spinning in vast empty void.