Between The Northern Lights
07/03 2021
I walk with my friend up the mountain
We sit on pointed rocks with our thick wool blanket
And unpack our food:
Our cheese, baguettes and ---
Most importantly ---
Our bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon
We enjoy ourselves as we
Watch the sun go down
The ground goes quickly from being lit
By a map of foreign constellations
To darkness that envelops
The nether valley beneath the moon
Where we came from, once.
And while it is tempting to comment
--- That our bread is moldy;
That our cheese has transformed
Into a feral nest of worms;
That our wine turned to vinegar ---
It would only tarnish this tender moment
His skeleton is too brittle for the emotional shock,
Let alone his soul floating around
The nether valley beneath the moon,
That we once called home.
The gentle greeting of spring gives rise to universal repose
By the angelic choir of mocking birds and blackcaps
The illusion of life is a promise, and not a belief
The young wolf cub discovers the world
As something pristine, and he is its master
He's been whispered the words in his ears,
Knowing, and not believing, that the discovery
In fact goes both ways.
The nether valley beneath the moon
Discovers the wolf cub.
The silent, cold embrace of summer
That dries out even the most stoic of men
No tears are wasted, but sometimes one can't help oneself
Shadows dance across abandoned deserts
Caves becomes an aphrodisiac
Despite lacking a source of water
All they need is vinegar dripping from the stalagmites
As the nether valley beneath the moon
Cracks beneath death's bony grip.
But, simply, a landscape now before us
Of wasted autumn leaves
That are eaten by various insects
Or floated over the souls below
That eventually land in the ocean
Outlining the nether valley beneath the moon
Otherwise the world would explode.
And when the winds finally
Tell the story of sleep
Without a hint of cruel malintent
Find life doing what death does best,
Rest --- which is itself a mighty test
Civilizations have fallen in its name
And relationships surely have dwelt
In its comfortable nest.
All I know is that we sit
Overlooking the dark remnants
Sometime at midnight
After much time has passed.
Our blanket has withered
And our flesh has blown away like dust
Gentle, heavy snowflakes fall
On the statues of our bones
They tell a story to me,
And another to the one that finds me.