Early spring thoughts while waiting
The reflection of two in the morning
Is the first mirror. Look into the night:
A found piece of obsidian
From the volcano inside the piano
Playing softly — only your heart hears it.
A dark screen. A dark sky. No password
To that star or the imperfections
That built around us a radiance
Invisible to all but those in the dark.
Is it any wonder the first stare
Into obsidian was unbearable,
They turned it to knives, arrowheads,
Jewelry, money. Anything but their
Selves. I am here in the dark
Inside a stone, listening to the music
Turn time’s pages. I swear
to you I will not polish this
memory into a mirror.
Many hearts hear this, Jeff. As always, thanks.
Thank you, AK.