Sometimes late at night I rise from our bed
and stealthily slip out to scribble these odd notes.
There is no moon tonight, so all the pine and oak trees
are tall black lines drawn against an ebony background.
The string of colored lights you creatively wrapped around
the false Ficus tree on the porch casts a strangely surreal
holiday glow, though Spring itself has barely begun.
In my imagination there are many forest creatures
lurking in the bushes and hedges around the property,
somewhat confused about what we are celebrating.
How sublime, that such divine confusion renders
the enchanting sounds of the crickets, frogs,
and night birds even more exquisite!
Just so, this is not a scene from a dream, a memory,
nor is it some kind of formless ecstasy that arises
when form fails to account for its own absence.
Form itself is not other than the compelling emptiness
of its own constituent parts, which if somehow calculated,
would expand like ripples until everything in the totality
of existence is included in the comfort of its own embrace,
illumined by the Christmas lights strung all around this place.
Need it be said that, if this intriguing wonder were reduced
to being a mere object of consciousness, its spacious fullness
would still not qualify as being interior or exterior, and hence
it persists beyond any conceptual calculation whatsoever?
That said, I will gladly testify that your natural radiance
has exceeded all the fancifully fabricated phraseology,
all the verbal devices and beauty’s tinseled metaphors
which I once may have resorted to in futile efforts
to describe pure light – its singular and stunning
appearance in the midst of this whatever-it-is
(moment, mind, mystery, magic, nameless).
Our life is an utterly ordinary ecstasy after all,
though our love for it is not dependent on visions,
the play of various causes and conditions, or weird
moods that might happen to pertain at any given time.
It just is as it is — like you and me and everything.
Still, I am not really here to talk about time, there is
plenty of space between thoughts for that discussion.
My fickle appreciation for life may glow or dim,
but your dear love light is always miraculously present.
The more I recognize this, the more blessed I feel
to be bathed as I am in your enduring shine, even when
you are just going around as you do, opening the curtains
in the morning and then closing them at the onset of night,
at home, at peace, so deeply in love that warm tears rise
as we pause in the midst of eternity to touch, to smile
into each other’s eyes, fully savoring the brilliance
we share together in that perfect timeless glance.