New things

We fly through black starless space
in a pewter-grey ship
as a fish with no fins.
Stead fast forward
through the relentless barrage of an unseen foe.
Hull pitting particles.
No fire.
No light.
How odd that the open mouth,
vulnerable to the void,
would not allow destruction.
Survival is ours.

Now I dream with eyes aware
on a desolate beach of destruction
watching over ocean,
the setting of sun,
as all things die in the dim of dusk.
Warm browns and cool greys.
A beautiful scene,
surreal and serene.
I lie naked in this space and time.
Bright flesh
alive in contrast to current context.

As the sun setting is rising,
in the dim of dawn and this quiet desolation
I wake from my watching to see the waking.
Others as myself
lying naked.
In all ways separate from where we stir.

Now off with a friend for anticipated festivity.
Don't mind that the marchers have commenced.
Step in time to their memorial line
and my momentary disappointment at the melancholy procession.
Who is there here to fear?
No one
Find the now in this pensive parade.
The forward movement of partnership.

A sudden shift of hue.

Green fields and warm blues

expansive space.

Crowds expand the celebration and the festival begins.

My spirit leaps as feet seek motion

only to find refrain as the pageant proceeds.

Gentle androgynous giants leading the dance.

Bare bodies alive

connected in the shear fabric of one free union.
Stretching

twisting
reaching in fluid beauty toward life

and the celebration of being.