The late afternoon sunlight is the kindest:
sweet warm honey pouring down from above,
pure grace, a perfect gift for those who make it
this far into the day, those who’ve almost reached
the night and its cool blanket of blessed benediction.
Most of us take our time here for granted —
certainly no praise or blame for that.
The rare ones know this is all there is,
this is everything — life and death as it is.
They don’t ignore this fleeting moment,
they will always plunge completely in.
Why do we keep getting more chances
and yet still refuse to understand?
Is it because we are those fortunate ones,
the gods who came here to bathe in the light,
to stand in the forest as the fat golden moon
arcs gracefully through a dark night sky?
It may seem as if we have plenty of time,
and in a certain way that is true.
But have you heard that lonesome call
of your own heart yet, the subtle cry
of your own dormant light?
As the moon slips quietly behind the clouds
we may entertain those random memories —
remembering how young we were,
how innocent, fresh, and naive.
Despite whatever we claim about love,
the moon sinks lower, disappears.
Now the long night is nearly over,
the crack between the worlds appears.
Soon it will fill with the light of day
and with it perhaps another chance,
just like so many days before,
so many days before.
(Picture by Antonio Kalantzis)