Watching the Night

Have I ever gazed

a sight like this?

Third (fourth) floor?

Window sill?

Moon shining like a teardrop

ready to fall from above?

 

Well, no.

It will stay in its place.

All you must do

is spread your wings

and fly up there yourself, darling.

 

You have nothing to fear.

 

It is just a New York street,

an Upper Manhattan merengue

playing off in the distance.

 

What does that sound, taste, scent of doubt

have on this essence of consciousness?

 

We are here together, on this main stage.

 

It keeps turning,

we keep turning,

your mind keeps turning

let it be what it is.

Feel it.  Nod, let it go.

 

Patience is hidden in the smile of the moon,

offered by the silence of her sister sun

she remains, shining brighter in the darkness

and not afraid of her beauty, either.

 

The real miracle

is knowing how to watch the show

and not become it;

the moon does this for us every night

brushes her lips against the sky

I can see it shining–

a smile reflected in the stars.

 

No, I cannot see them above the diner sign

but I can hear them:

whispers of light

burning through the galaxy

reminding us

that we do not understand time, just yet.

 

July 12, 2016

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Goodnight

Goodnight,

sweetheart,

until we meet again,

and when we find

some time

to spend so well;

so long,

my lady,

sixth street

still sunny

while singing,

“I’m the one,”

until next time,

my friend,

and I’ll see you

back again,

spreading those wings

like a bird that dares to fly,

no bat of the eye

could keep you down,

so goodnight,

my sweet angel,

goodnight.

July 23, 2014