Sun Dance (’06)

The wind was trapped in stone conceit
When Pan escaped these city streets
To fly the slumberfall of words
To worlds beyond the chimes of
Time’s insistence –
Far from discourse-drum of
Sentence, starved and
Going numb.
The whores, their lullabies in dust
Began the scarlet songs of lust…
…at dusk, the cobbles shivered
As the sighing of the rivergod
Played carriage.
Rattled, inward breath,
A hope to make the boy forget.

All there ever was
was a word
and he
it’s flitting orbital moth,
real in the reeling
concealing his myth in
a sphere’s golden kiss.
Young,
wistful,
willful waters
washed the mortar from his feet.
Surely this was life complete?
– To sleep upon a cradling green
To dream
and in the dreaming’s spell, be
tideless,
timeless,
a creaseless hidden lake…
…to wake
and tell the tale of day
in silence –
praying love reborn:
a halo
from the womb of morn.

So it was
And might always have been
Untouched
Unheard
Unknown
Unseen
Alone among the leaves, transcending
Thought and need Of having friend.

But in the end came
Days of thunder,
The gods envailed their golden wonder, and
In the shroud of cloud entraced the lines of
Pan’s forgotten face – a man
For though to heaven near,
His fear gave him away.
Even now, in the closed heart of grey
he knows the sunset
having seen no sun.
But knowing alone is not light.

So in the night’s
silken glove,
when there’s nothing above,
he digs,
peeling the earth
for her glow…
…but below,
at the core,
there were only the conversations,
the brief glances,
common woes and shared elations.
The weighted silence – its violent
tremors stilled
by a willing smile’s patience.
Senseless,
that in searching
he missed his own radiance.

For even in darkness we are blind
blind dancers,
winding and
weaving
through each other’s arms
with no direction, but to the next touch.
With no flame
save our faith in its coming.

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