I Thought the Night’s Solitude Over

I thought the night’s solitude over,
on the forest’s edge where only I can go.
I proffered my question to angels, towering above the trees,
more ancient than our gods,
some sinister, some kind.
My question was answered only by questions
that turn in and upon themselves
into something irreducible.

But my visions sometimes tear the fabric of that last horizon.

I thought the night’s solitude over,
but you caught up with me,
and overtook my fervid unknowing.

So I sit and think and taste your rainwater,
the air washed of its dusty day.
The rain has stopped, but I taste your breeze-fallen drops–
Each one a cherished memory.

I string them all like lights
over a promenade by a slow-flowing river,
so that I may walk its length in your golden glow.

Have I not strung these lights before?
Have I ever not known you?
How I wish one day to bare you my soul,
its childlike nakedness,
so that you may see that its like your own.

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