As a pop gun signals nightfall,
and a star twinkles in the East...
Well the boys know the night has begun,
and the infernal fable,
- it begins to be spun.
And what of the heat?
The smoldering ashes...
that bake a face and sear an eye,
but also excite the human spirit in face of the inert,
- and make it ceaselessly, relentlessly try.
When the boys light it off,
the wolves howl,
the cats cry,
the tigers pounce,
the second coming is abound,
and they howl too.
The girl with a love listens, and she listens good:
because something intrigues her,
necessitates her movement towards, and her attraction to,
her spirit, and there her lack thereof,
because it is musical, her dance, her flow,
and her skill, and the vision she holds.
When those two all-encompassing globes,
glazed by the lackadaisical,
burnt by the selfishness of man,
and used in the face of evil,
stumbled upon such a tremendous sight...
She craved it among all things.
These carefree boys,
and their goofy toys-
- extensions of such a simple reality,
products of such an ephemeral moment of:
combinations and permutations,
and chaotic actions and livid visions.
Liberty,
and what was apparent freedom...
appeared in that glade,
between the sweaty palms,
and the ocean - wishing in and washing out.
A half-empty Corona, with a sandy lime,
smelling with aromas, with a seabreeze,
- not quite unlike a divine wine.
And she saw tremendous things,
holding her breath in fright of discovery:
She painted lines between the trees,
where the boys swung like monkeys;
She formed shapes in the sand,
where before there were only mopey mounds;
She saw the colors - oh!
And when she saw the colors, the unimaginable happened:
lights, and wavelengths, and palettes, and verdant rich tears of beauty...
envisaged in a moment,
created for a lifetime,
because she effortlessly made music.
Something gripped her suddenly, tightly. (playfully?)
Then she screamed, and yet no sound,
a strong clamp of a palm held back the utterance.
(but also a hint of understanding? a tenderness?)
The boys in the glade were still playing,
yet one was missing, and here he was.
The wisps of her silky hair felt his movement,
a hair's breadth from her acute ears; and a whisper!
- "Your eyes... They hold the world.
I didn't even need to spot them, to feel your gaze.
It warms.
You have seen the light.
You don't have to be afraid.
The beauty you see.
Deserves to be shown."
So she wasn't.
He threw her upon his back,
and out he jumped, and he howled!
---
Just then, as if a message that must be sent,
for the world to hear, and meditate upon...
the fire erupted in a cacophony so great; an echo to his howl.
Not only boys now (they had whooped into the distance),
but hundreds came,
not just man, but ideas, and shapes;
forms of things long past that must be seen now, for it is today.
Never before were such things seen in such a tandem.
And the boy understood,
and the girl understood.
They had stopped becoming beings then,
for only a moment,
for the slightest of seconds.
Their realities mixed...
And underneath it all...
the smoldering coals
tenderly caressed the gently licking flames.
A sign of the souls,
that needed to get lost.
