The Sun’s Passing: Another Day

I had a friend, same age as I pass away last night. It reminded me of an old poem I wrote at the time my father passed. I rarely share my poetry: 

The Sun’s Passing: Another Day

March 15, 2005

Poetry is like blood

it has to flow

oxygenated by imagination

          or you slowly suffocate

               under dead words

everything is a belief

     make it a dream or a nightmare

death will dance with you

      all night the day Time comes.

Sweaty hours bleed away

    grasping for security

your hands in his

     you’ll have nothing more to hold

That dance on marble floors

    with the great master

         so exquisite

Death takes away

     your very breath

  as something so beautiful

        amazement resounds

On the marble floors of the great library

   I saw him dance

         no one ever loved Life more

         curls on Romanced locks of hair

He held her like there was no tomorrow

    Their dance was eternal love

          revealed in every movement

   ornate flowing of her dress

         contrast or compliment

   to his bare presence

I watched them dance

      a love I only dream

            to hold

so sweetly he stepped in unison with her

    Life so fragile

         held so delicate

So beautiful it takes your breath away

So beautiful, it takes your breath away

And everyone loses themselves to tears

          light too bright blinds

                the tears just come

He makes us all children again

       She makes us old

Lovers they merge exchanging roles

     parents they raise up

        wiser growing

       always flowing

       streams to rivers

    blood swims in veins

        I surge onward