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
skies…

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.

SUMMER. Jessica – Doctor, 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 perhaps, 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…

I love.