Everything is Clear

everything becomes clearer.

the sky that is blue

and the earth that is green,

where do they get their buckets of paint

for both almost infinite canvass?

and who is the painter

who slaves in the dark while we sleep?

Everything is like when,

As a child with hungry eyes and ears,

I fed on things that were new.

The leaves and branches are raising their arms

Waving them at the arrival of the winds,

Birds and bees, and small insects unseen

Join together to perform this symphony

Of celebration at the waking of the sleeping sun.

Everything becomes so near.

An empty chair sits by my side.

And even in its silence, I hear,

Or perhaps imagine,

It’s absent voice calling out for someone.

Everything is so clear

Light and sound,

The lengthening of shadows.

Until the stars come out to watch me

And we watch each other.

Everything is…nothing

There is only empty space

Everything is clear

And that is why I fear

That certain absence

From whom a shadow

Whose shape is not like my own.

And yet blends and covers

My own shadow

Complete, total

Like bonfires whose fingers

Washes away

The stains of dirty memories.