Night of Day

Night of day, come play your songs in me.
Darkness of all light now sheltering my soul
in this most natural revival of the whole.

(You were always so upset whenever
that one feeling jolted you back to
awareness of yourself – that feeling of
my closing, no matter how gently I closed.)

Thunder rumbles distantly, and yet I feel
a sense of peace, within a calming interlude
of nature muting noise into a tone.

(You so often feel discomfort when
you find such silence - ascending into you;
and yet I see a greater meaning, starting
to break through.)

How gently now, the separation of each
raindrop, reblending then into the earth,
regaining form in puddles that reflect again
the lightening clouds that gave them birth.

(Is it that you somehow sense that thunder
is no more than angry innocence, at last
expressing all the vastness of our need
to change?)

Lightning flashes, born within the
darkness of the thunderous clouds,
enlightening everything, just before
another rush of rain, now breaking
free, decides to tumble down in yet
another harmony.

(I know you’ve been here too; and
wondered, just as I, what we might do
to make this harmony more real...)

Yet there is no sorrow in the weeping
of the clouds, rather just release and
letting go; no pain resides in thundering
skies where variations clash; nor can
any sense of death impinge on this pure
night of day; for here we play it true,
or not at all.

(Lucidly, we dream ourselves awake
into awareness; where what seems bare
is filled to overflowing with it all. Our path
is ever of an opening out of all enclosures,
while still allowing form to be itself, in its
free-forming variations of all life.)

Clear, the mind that finds its way back home...

? Michaelette ?

5/10/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .