We each hold a vibrant light
tongues of flame from the day
that christened all
before the floods
when the tones
now outside our range
sang out in harmonies
that were the universe
not about it nor within it
but of it
essentially
it
crescendos
prisms, beams of joy
sparks, a color wheel
whirring too fast
too hot, moving blurred
recedes to a point
just behind
ahead of what awaits
yet to come
we are image
a sequence of events
to convey motion and life
on any optic nerve
willing to listen
a patch of skin will impress
my being as once did the placenta
oxygen is plasma
thick and warm, an ooze that separates
figure from ground
thick as the tepid zone
smell of incense
the erogenous
hemp smolders cloying
hangs from lips that grin
at sarcasm of their own making
an inside joke on the outside
of reason, off course
yet on target, if that’s your aim
to please
of course
I have tasted your lips
since the garden kiss
when you disappeared into the mist
of the canopy
I have waited eternities
in these softer rains
for you to touch down
you’ll alight when you break
the wings that keep you aloft
in constant quandary
perpetual orbit
can’t possibly last
forever
© Carlos Chagall, 2013