In The Open Abyss

I wonder,

oh how I wonder —

not about your ability

or your presence,

though in truth, they do elicit

reverence and admiration.

~

The secrets we share with you,

the ones that would shock,

cause empires to rise

or crumble and burn to the ground,

ruin relationships,

devastate and implicate.

~

When I promised to change my ways,

prostrated, head down,

my oath and the lies I told —

you saw and heard,

at twilight,

as the strippers and sex workers

work their trade,

use their bodies,

put on the red light and the red lipstick.

~

The smugglers and underbelly

push their product,

steal innocence,

even at the expense of their own,

while the lawmakers

and overseers of the land

you shine on

make plans,

deals and decisions,

shaping the world,

causing pain and suffering,

raising armies against armies.

~

You can’t disrupt

or interfere with —

even if you wanted —

because you are

celestial, astral,

hanging in mid-space,

in the open abyss…

~

As the cheaters,

the schemers,

the backroom rulers

make their plays —

destiny and fate

in their hands —

the silent wishes

and hushed prayers

of hope and heartache

that I myself know too well.

~

The intimacy of lovers,

the firsts,

screams, la petite mort,

newborn gasping

for breath and love,

adoration and care.

~

New loves, old bonds,

illicit trysts and the complicit,

quiet demise of some,

loud and distressing of others —

disputes and disagreements,

convalescences and condolences,

spiritual awakenings

and chemical inebriations,

nightshift workers and night-owl drifters,

whistleblowers and the underhanded corporate thieves.

~

You shift your gaze above us all,

shine your pale light over us all.

Though we may never address you

or owe to you the praise you earn,

you shine and are present,

then travel again —

always moving, always sharing,

never letting the darkness

stay too long, unaccompanied.

~

(As poets, songwriters,

playwrights and artists,

we try and try

try in vain to capture,

your majesty, your elegance

The dusted, bloated words

of mere mortals,

devoid of original thought.

Boring, dull beyond words

How can we ever do you justice?

Repeated ad nauseum,

Old, run-through metaphors

Allegories and analogies

How we fail and fall

from the outset

of any attempt

to capture

the mystery

magic

But what's the point?

We do it regardless

in vanity, we excel

because why not?

luna surgit et cadit,

luna nobis omnibus lucet.

luna numquam deficit,

luna nostra luna)

Latin for class

Latin for art

Latin for timeless reminders

Latin for pomposity

Latin because yawning isn't poetry

Yawning isn't art

Isn't staring in the open abyss

and considering the beauty of the eternal lantern

and not trying to capture it

~

But still we remember

~

As the night-light predators

stalk their prey —

but you never look away,

do you?

You just shine —

unmoved, eternal,

in the dark, open abyss.

*

Thanks for reading!