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Sunday, August 25, 2013

Fuel the Sun


summer lives with no need of us;
it runs its sparkle-shine
out of sight in deeper waters,
the sky is lit with its light
without a care for any who follows
or to whom it delivers life;

where the kites of clouds
wash their regal reflections
with no heed of us,
and yet we need them
to feed our hungry lives;


and so we consume love:
some to eat from another
to fill the emptiness inside;
others to fuel the sun
that lives inside of us;

as we had done together under
the shade of olive trees,
to learn its secrets
beneath scented leaves
in the gilded heat of silence;


as though we alone
watched the sunlight dance
off the sheen of heated skin,
bodies shining as wet stones
driven by the river's flow,

as though we alone
were shadows embracing fire,
burning down deep below
to rise brighter and higher
than any sun could go;


and this I know - for you showed me,
of how love lives dormant in you,
with its triggers built in
to a thousand touches waking
to the whim of another's skin;

how love is about inheriting
smiles as summer, tears as rain
and words as first light
that signal the way
back to shelter again;


and every word is a breath
that begins in your name,
a spoken morning prayer
that clings to the air
and outs the sun as a flame,

and this I know - for you taught me,
that though the sun fuels us,
it is we who fulfil its purpose,
for the summer may live without us,
but it finds us a willing audience,


it is we who speak of its beauty,
we are the products of its light,
children that grow to its height
to burn out as infinitely
in the chaos of universality;

so we give love its voice, too,
and the meat it consumes,
which feeds us in turn
as we shine to the last
as heat to the summer's burn.

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