Icy Midnights
Some icy midnights,
Especially when a bright full moon invites me into its ivory light
And I'm trapped inside the translucent halos of my shimmering breaths
Bridging the horizon between my eyes and the nearest sky,
Harboring our galaxy's farthest, darkest star clusters...
Some icy midnights,
When my tight throat, frigid tongue and lips, constricted nostrils
Cast adrift my lungs' crystallized flakes of depleted oxygen,
Which beckon my exhilarated spirit to follow their trajectories,
As if each were guiding me toward a hospitable astral shore...
Some icy midnights,
I just give my soul over to the entire frozen cosmos,
Trusting it will know how to dispose of my incorporeal ashes,
Scatter my sensibility's metaphysical essence,
So that angels might read, in echoes of my last breathing gasps,
A semblance of the poetry God composed from the void,
Capturing the vast dramatic passion of commencement and closure
He fashioned for man, for me, when He realized what He'd created
And knew, from day one of my resurrection from quietus,
That I was destined to follow icy midnights, into His deathless realm.
06/09/11
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