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In the Infinite Now In the Infinite Now The night is glossy living encased in black-marble silence. The night is a stone cutter chiseling gloom into strange light. The night is a voyage we take into otherness with our feet upon the mortal land. The night is drunk on itself and it lives, enshrined, in a vast and miniscule Now. It venerates lovers who decree: I will love who I love through all my dream-lives, through the angelic sorrow attached to me like the jelled, summer air, through the lifespan of the glacial moon, through heartbeats so fast they could be humming ghosts, high frequency and untamed, and finally beyond some abandoned grief, almost shining like a frosted rose. In this splinter of no-time, in the soft-burning eyes of God, there are no insignificant beings, just this singular everything, just this unutterable love like a fever of stars: countless spirits, one Light. Patricia Joan Jones © patriciajj1 - all rights reserved. |
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