how fast the river flows
lambent beads sliding together
a powerful whole that is made up of so many parts
and in its inexhorable motion
changes everything
even the water's course itself
an alchemical mystery
inspiration like quick
silver
muting and morphing and transforming
ideas into words into
shining towers and the arching
parabola
that tears those towers down
the dark magics
of change, always changing
Misted rain, soft and springy,
June. Already? Our chance has passed
Was it ever really a chance
When you pressed for the answer
When?
May!
I said, May, flustered and
A little mad that I had to know
When, when?
A month too far distant (in December) to consider
It might never come to pass…
May has fled
And now… it’s June
And we stand staring
Looking across
This chasm of space
Cut by time’s white water rapids
Growing deeper, if no wider,
As the weeks, and months,
And then the years pass.
To plan for the essential eventuality
We dream loudly, we dream frantically
We reach across and feel the phantoms of each other
Held tighter than lovers
But if we do not step forward
If we only ask
When
And do not say
NOW!
