The Night came closer.
And asked me why I loved you.
As it does every day.
It asked me about my fears
And the things that haunted me.
About what made you beautiful in my eyes.
I told it of my absence.
How you always loved another.
And like the fall, my colors would blow away in the wind.
But more than that I spoke of your wonder.
Of the sweet things I saw in your face
While the dawn threatened me with tomorrow.
I told him,
“His eyes are the deep abyss that I swim in. Black waters at night, in the ocean I float. Finding forever in the cool water, making my limbs light.
His eyes are the hunger of the tiger in the tall grass, begging my surrender, begging for the sweet lapping of water. Making me cry out in the night.
Universes hide in his eyes, the dawn of creation. the twisting of galaxies, sparking the dust of suns.So quiet and deep and brimming with a thousand lives and a thousand implosions.
A hollow made for the hoarding of gold, mountains of caverns lit up with fire. The singing of ages bellowing in its depths.
Obsidian inking, writing the shouts of warriors coming home upon the scroll hearts of history. Sweet words of lovers reunited, and another tomorrow to hold.
His eyes are the coat of the black wolf in the wood, feet light among the moonlit leaves. A whisper of journey on the ache of it’s voice, bounding out among the hills and calling me in.
A smooth stone in my hand, a treasure. Pulled from those swift waters of life, beating their path down the mountain, like the feet of time.
A raven on the wind, rising high on intelligent eyes. Piercing the darkness with his sharp wit and laughing call.
His eyes are the dark side of the moon, mystery and loneliness. A wisp of the coming light that the soul seeks to bathe in. The light of the impossible, waiting to breathe again.
Memory, how deep and dark that place is within him. That blackness his eyes behold and cradle. Laying curled in the confines of his mind.
The combining of color. The voiding of thought. The surprise of light. The haven of Home.”
And the night sat back on it’s heels
and blew a sweet southern wind.
And warned me of my inklings.
Because playing with fire was never safe
But playing with the dark.
That was from which some never returned.
And I looked up at the stars in wonder
How the light could love the black so much
That they froze themselves in his arms.
Even though with the coming dawn
They too would fade with him
Until nothing remained but the sound of their laughter.