Music, The Night, and You
Are you at night the sun on my back in a corridor of knowledge leading to the gate of tomorrow's laughter?
I dreamed of you in the high yellow dunes that record the shape of the wind.
I dreamt of a moving, grain by grain, a slipping sensuously on, a landscape in motion.
In the blue of noon you are lines curving up/lines curving down, razor edges of definition drawn against a wall of sound.
In the light of the moon, dunes become caps of snow pulled from under a sheet of stars and lifted toward heavens by lips of warm consciousness, dreaming.
When the sky is smoke-red with dawn, expanding like a prayer, illuminating enormous pagoda clouds, glimmers of understanding may come flitting across our eyesight:
We are bigger than we know,
and getting stronger,
drawing strength from the sky,
from the universe's core.
You may look up into the lake of dawn and realize
that life is light's pilgrimage,
glowing with all the unheard music turning in your body.
The vast arc of the cosmos is but a diminishing ripple
of your expanding song.
A smoky laugh swirls through your soul and shapes your landscape,
and I can feel the escaping music in the loops of my blood.