Friday, August 8, 2014

because he loved her so

The sun loved the moon so much
he died every night

to let her

She calls me over to read these words
while I stand here
chopping the onions.

I don't know who wrote this.
But I do know that this simple expression
moves me deeply.
Touches me enough
for tears to come.
Enough for a contented
and even an aching, audible
to escape these lips.

And wasn't it a synchronicity
not too long afterward
when she beckons me once again
to come upstairs to the bedroom window
this time
where both of us now
stand and gaze in wonder
facing the eastern and
mountain edged skyline.

Sharing this fleeting moment at day's end.
This magical twilight time, this dusk time.
This space between fading light of day
and night's dark and silent descent.

And once again, my lips part
in an awed, aloud gasp
and I breathe
in and out
at the sheer and utter beauty
of it all.

The completeness
of an idea
and now a vision:

These lingering words.
This big beautiful ball of light.

Arising now
ever so slowly
from her mountain bed.
Alive now,
little by little
with each breath she takes.
All because he loved her so.

from the archives
(in honor of this weekend's lovely full moon)

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