The night must fall again
Its heavy curtain holding back
the light, so still and final in
the seeming full-stop of the moon – yet
nightfall is but a blink in the eye of the intelligent world –
only like the flash of eyelashes, closing and opening again
to let in the light – that must come, though the moon’s
distant, vacant face may hide it – and just when you feel sure
that you could reach out and hold that fragile white wafer
in the sky, pop it into your mouth, and feel it melt and crumble
at the roof of your tongue, lose yourself in its indifferent,
unchanging cold, drown in its sea of stale light
It becomes only a portal, a cradle for the immortal sun
Breaking forth, prying the night open with its strong grip
or pushing away the dense dark like the palms of a mother
worn by a lifetime of tireless caring. Golden butterfly, triumphing again
over your star studded pupa, help me remember your fight.
Paradise Prose Blog 