And the Time is Now

… and one said, ah, behold how we have aged, traveling
from day to night only, neither forward nor sideward …
—Louise Gluck, “Parable”

Sometimes there is in me a longing
for a different path. Of course I love

this one with its paradoxes. Waterfalls
in the desert. Snow in the sundrunk field.

And in every dark corner, so much light.
But still we are ruled by night leading to day

leading to night. There is no standing still.
There is no leap to the side, no hiding

in the folds of the day. No lingering
in the flower of you, my legs swathed

in grains of mystery. Only glimpses of a world
beyond syllables. Only a dream of a time

when we wander from ripeness
to ripeness to gathering ripeness.

I do my best to fall in love with the way
things are. It is not hard, most of the time.

And I carry flame with me everywhere so
that no matter what, I always have an ember

for you. It is easier that that way, knowing
I need to be brave. And day turns to night, turns to day.

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