Brilliant arctic
air April night;
deeply dimensional
sky;
stars, some seem
reachable, some unimaginably far, in omni-faceted colors.
He, in only a nightshirt,
lying back, uncold,
listening…
to…
Wagnerian pipe organs
of silence.
Ornately theatrical
curtains,
ascending
descending
opening
closing
hot magenta
to
cold silver olive
sheers,
over two-thirds
of
the universe.
Wishing.
Longing.
Belonging.
Alone.
Lying.
Listening.
Watching.
Then floating
just above the
body in the cold
grass.
Ascending
-watching
the ascension -
soaring
spiraling
streaking
up through the energy
filled void.
Into the curtain
realm
through the color
shifting opulence; beyond,
into
bleak black
blinding brilliance
overwhelming quantum
energies abound.
Alone.