Hot and Cold

Hot and cold; shiver and then shake;
sleeping through the wide-awake.
What really is at stake
as dawn descends . . . ?
Need we make amends
for all we cannot do . . . ?

The early morning dew has turned
into a beauty never known before,
as frost is etched again across
the surface of all form,
and yet the dawn still comes;
startling light expanding into
all that night left standing in its wake.

Is this truly what it means
to be awake . . . ?
as ever one more
question asks itself
growing then into
the very answer that it seeks
to come to be.

Suddenly there's no one here
to stop the tears from falling.
I hear a distant whisper
calling listlessly within a sky
still streaked with darkened sheets of night
where need stands out in startling points
just out-of-joint with sleepy sighs
that only want to dream the day away.

What mystery reveals itself . . . ?
Invisible, yet so alive,
crying out for validation,
found only in a look, a scent, a touch;
crystallizing focus in kaleidoscopic reach
through sweeping vistas of a singular
yet never solitary wave of energy.

Encased, we simply bleed each other,
feeding on the feelings that we find.
I hear your voice in memory
as if it spoke aloud
filling all the silence
that surrounds me now
in sultry tones that deepen air
and flair before
they drift away again.

Ah, for the days, when gratefully
we played through moments
moving out of time;
when being with each other
more than filled the endless cycles
of our lives with harmony,
and warmth expanded from within
to everything that lived and breathed.

Unproductive, unconcerned,
we learned more from an instant
of our love's eternity
than ever lengthened tomes
could carry on; until that
overwhelming sense of time
intruded yet again.

It set the world spinning all too fast
upon an axis never meant to speed,
but rather float through galaxies
within a silent, silky, sweet suspension;
where a pause meant everything
within the nothingness
of all beginnings.

Askance and tilted, vision filters
swarms of moving light,
settling on shadows playing
joyfully through nights of our embrace;
like singing starlight filling space,
magically enhancing spirit-life,
when all that came before surrenders
blatantly to fiery future
forming endlessly.

Know it, breathe it, see it, be it -
scented tone of light
so all-encompassing
that darkness moves aside,
making room for bright blue skies
in azure tones of indigo's ascension;
extending in a never-ending beam of light,
unfolding sighted shadows on the wall,
and through those empty halls
that ever need be filled with life -
the counterpoint before the thrust
imagining a trust of
never-ending stationary waves;

Moving now through days
of utter emptiness,
for one alone just cannot
move itself along;
and hot needs cold,
as day needs night,
to make itself complete . . .


Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
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