Morning

The light was still blue and gray.
The silhouettes of the lines and angles were
themselves and for the first time real.
All the stars were alone and forgotten.
We woke up with a rush, fell asleep again.
Our faces painted
the smell of gasoline on our hands.
The dreams were of memories
the emotions kept hold even in waking.

This space was left for us.
Between the trees by the rocks and hidden in shadows.
You sat reading a borrowed book
with shoes on
the door open
morning light
giving perspective.

I was on the edge of the bed.
Closed and mind open.
I saw the body still.
His life is our love.

Can you believe all these fires and dreams forever?
Twisted names called lives.
It’s hard to even wonder when it started or ended.
These bubbles of existence
each floating by
to its own place in the sun.

Where it’s all going?
Have I been there?
Have you always been here?
Movements of revolution in the myths
new stories being written
in the land where stories started.

Can we hold on to all of this beneath us?
The water is among us and killing.
Two hands holding as the eyes see darkness.
Breaths slower deep calm believing.

You told me everything.
Every word a million times more real
than any thought.
I see only what I want to see and let my blindness guide me.

The sky is now white and nothing else is needed.