Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou can’st not leave
Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare;
Bold lover, never never can’st thou kiss,
Though winning near the goal – yet do not grieve;
She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,
Forever wilt thou love, and she be fair!
Keats – Ode on a Grecian Urn
WINTER: In the darkness, gestation.
Until the Phoenix rises, once more, exultant, free
to love and love again, soaring across
the ancient white peaks, the dazzling, clear blue
SPRING: Michelle – CEO, blonde.
We are not exactly a match, no longer young
but exploring the same distant territory, we lie here
in deep contentment, curtains drawn but for a crack
where the clear sun light enters us, refracted
through a crystal pendant, hanging there.
In the camera obscura, vivid spectrums drift about the room
over Michelle’s lustrous hair, soft shoulder
round breasts, as gorgeous
as the golden dawn.
I feel euphoric, floating in a sea of fractals and serotonin.
The light beams seem to pulse and swirl rhythmically to the music.
But she will leave me, torn, and go back to her husband.
A last prozac muted expedition, towards a faded horizon.
SUMMER. Jessica – Healer, Priestess: black and beautiful.
A much younger lover than I imagined being seen so deeply by
she meets me on a new exalted plane – heart-mind – body — and soul.
She takes me, beyond her years, teaches me to trust in spirit – in self – in her.
Falling in love, exultant dreams, the exuberant promise of a partner, a daughter, I rise
but, impetuous, single willed, wild panther, takes an abrupt right, leaving me
naked, fractured, fallen, from a mutually abstracted sense
of longing, belonging, and wholeness.
AUTUMN. Alone – now – truly alone, for the first time, in
a life of deepening relationship, with self and other.
Among these empty chambers, coming at last to know my self
the first and last love – each cleaving, leaving me stronger, more connected
to the roots of this living, through the growing seasons of life…