The Visitor

And we walk in shadows,

always asking for something,

always hoping to be seen,

heard, loved…

Yet trees grow tall, so old,

unconcerned with this and that

or who they might be today,

or tomorrow…

Eventually we too will be relieved

of this duty to be…

and simply exist

unaided by the silly idea

that there is anything

we need to do

to be

beautiful…

Eventually we will simply open our eyes

and smile….

and smile at the brilliance

we had mistaken

for something

dangerous,

something terrifying,

something we assumed was unneeded,

not yearned for…

yet always

right there

at the door

knocking softly,

not wishing to intrude,

to shower you in the taste of freedom…

in the grace of unbounded love

Nothing to do at all…

nothing at all…

You are so beautiful my eyes

dissolve

in your brightness,

my flesh turns

to light.