The moon is rising swiftly tonight,
as if it can barely wait, as if this will be
the last and only time, a last and only chance
to be fully seen and appreciated for the transparency
of presence pulsing in the lunar song it sings,
spreading in exquisitely reflected light
so bright along the near horizon.
Behind the light, dreaming’s doors
are thrown open to the pathless sky,
the space in which this moon and I arise,
the stage on which we dance tonight.
We ourselves are being danced in a darkness
where all emerges and dissolves, with nothing else
to do but shine and disappear in a way
for which no made-up words apply,
and nothing can compare.
Just one taste of this dark elixir
can drown two sorrows –
self and other.
It seems that I’ve spent innumerable lifetimes
patiently carving intricate designs in the dusky air
with every moon-spun heartbeat, the same emptiness
from which you miraculously emerge, lighter than air,
lighter than any word for air, imperceptibly at first,
like a cool relaxed calypso made of air.
Now adrift in this moon-lick kiss of night
I’m sifted into, unaware of the hunt I’m prey for,
I am blinded by the light of you, as clear as the air
I’ve carved you from, dear as the air you wrap me in,
afloat, serene, in moonshine’s breathless radiance.
See how fine our breathing blends, bending space
into that one extended sigh that whispers us into being,
while you stretch like a thin thread of pale moonshine
across the taut bare haunch of a crouching hunter
patiently waiting to pounce and take its prey.