“I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.”
― Pablo Neruda

·Joseph_Mallord_William_Turner

Too many words
and our hearts are
conspicuously silent
when addressing
midnight feasts or Lenten fasts

Nothing lasts
except the majesty of the momentary
singularity of an event horizon
where voices echo birdsong
like dark eyes at a funeral

Warning us of our own death,
granted not foretold,
time follows in our footsteps
helps us to slip off the ledge
as these cliff paths crumble
into a sky

Busy am I with beckoning bird song
above sea level;
where richly tapestried
dolphins
grace us with their presence

Before leaping into rain
out of a dark swirling sea
while occasional oblivions
pass us by
‘neath a darkening-darkening sky

As time comes a-roaring by,
out of this high stippled sky,
composed not created,
to wish me a long goodbye.