A huge shout out to my friend Ben, who wrote this inspirational piece and gave me permission to share. You rule, man!


Sunrise

I

We will sit together
In the cold at daybreak,
As if we are not cold.
And in this warmth we share
Visions will be our breaths,
Illustrating our thoughts.

And we will imagine
That we each imagined
Us both sitting here now.
The way I remember,
Or the way you do not,
Does not matter to us

Under the winter sun,
The naked sky blushes,
In which I saw you once.
And our dreams and visions
Of your body with mine
Flash wordless in our breaths.

II

It is the winter sun,
Pure light of the sun,
Streaming so slowly
Through the empty, passing clouds

(On the sea’s surface
I see a deep impression
Of opening wombs.)

Illumining your face
And your hands in the sky,
White with the cold water
Of the clouds of your breath.

(At the sun’s eclipse
I taste the ocean’s bodies
Nourishing us both.)

It is the sudden warmth,
Pure heat of the sun
Warming my body,
Why I dare not gaze up

(To the sand’s granules
My deoxygenated
Blood is all I give.)

And every passing glimpse,
Through the light and the warmth
Of the sun, of your soul
In the sun, suffuses mine.

Sunset

I

Without you, what you are
Is distorted by my
Contortion of your limbs;
Immaterial clots
Passing through bilious veins,
Through my empty body

In every daydream. I
Touch visions of your skin;
I do not imagine,
But feel the sunlight’s warmth
(Whose womb directs your blood)
Enfold me in your own.

On waking you are gone—
I am a memory,
And nothing more, of you
Who threaded through my veins
The sunlight and the warmth,
Without which I’ll forget.

II

It is this part of the soul, my soul,
That wanders without me into darkness,
So in this darkness it may find a light

It is the labour
Not the Heart
In accordance with
The God.

It is this part of the soul, my soul,
That wanders without me into wire,
So in this wire it may be cut loose

It is the labour
Not the Art
In accordance with
The Word.

It is this part of the soul, my soul,
That wanders without me into fire,
So in this fire it may still be cleansed

It is the labour
Not the Word
In accordance with
The Art.

It is this part of the soul, my soul,
That wanders without me into vastness,
So in this vastness it may find itself

It is the labour
Not the God
In accordance with
The Heart.

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