The Everything in the Everyday
when on the edge of trembling day
i see her staring into space
and line gives way to moisture on
the curve of that amazing face
i’m wondering: where does she go
out past the edge of that sunset
and is she where she’s happier
with better love and less
regret
Cliffs that overhang the ocean,
Clouds across an endless sea,
Waves in constant roar and motion,
For two walkers, you and me,
Everything a day could be:
Even now, there’s no forgetting
Rising day and old love setting.
Ireland I still remember,
We were young and full of fire;
In the last days of September
Sinking lower, climbing higher
Led by bits of lost desire.
Even now, with no regretting
Came the day for old love setting.
Though the eyes grow weak and jaded,
Though my heart be worn and sore,
There’s a day that never faded
Walking down a distant shore
Once, for all, and evermore:
Nature’s kindness hope abetting
One last morn ere love’s last setting
The day is gray and wet;
I place a candle here.
I neither can forget,
Nor can remember clear.
The face, it starts to fade,
The voice, it dies away;
I struggle to take hold,
But all is in decay —
For though we light our lights,
The years win out, at last.
The losingest of fights:
Our battle with the past.
But I will not give in,
Though, sure, at last, I’ll fall —
For I loved and was loved,
And that was worth
It all
Across the room a wooden table
Yellow tea lights flicker
The night is gathering her dress
To go amid the stars
And we in silence find abundance
Through the skylight glowing
As shadows dance across the bed
And every sound is ours
For we are physical and mental
Full emotions churning
And yet are centered to our core
To lie among the still
And see the lights of years ago
By our few candles burning
To feel how close the far away
Can be when we just will
Our empathy is very low,
Our hubris very high;
And each is kept right where it is
By its own special lie —
We do not empathize because
We’re told that we cannot:
If you’re not in a group, as such,
You’ll get told that a lot
So people balkanize, and then
Tend to their own condition,
And empathy remains unused,
Ruled out by definition
Then over here, we have the other –
Hubris, it is called:
Because with our technology
We’re smitten and enthralled
We humans have been in this place
For just a little bit;
But yet we talk about “the planet”
As if we ran it
A new imperialism reigns
But stays with our borders:
As “smarter” people hound our lives
With their quixotic orders
Yes, it’s the Age of Hubris, and
The Disunited Age;
We must discard these “truths”
If we’re to turn another page
For we can empathize with those
Whose lives are not our own;
And human arrogance is vain,
We occupy no throne
Of lofty exaltation, we
Are not the stars above;
But should form bonds of unity
And empathy
And love
A limitless expanse —
In time reborn and unaware
We ventured
And left our hearts to chance:
The magic morn of cupboard bare,
Indentured
But never knowing it was so.
So intimate, so artless —
The world may be a wonder show:
It’s keepers, though, are heartless —
A barefoot couple’s dance:
Ere everything that isn’t fair
Had censured
In-time-reborn romance;
A field of flowers there
Where we’d
Adventured
why she’s so intoxicating
he can’t really understand;
she is here, and he’s a servant
waiting for her next command –
but that’s not the game they’re playing.
their game is much simpler still —
she desires to be wanted,
and he wants her with a will
but his want is tempered slightly
by a few scruples of his:
he cannot take their love lightly,
for to him, she precious is
now so open, so inviting –
it’s an offer he’ll soon take:
sensual dessert for two, with
love, the icing on
the cake
