Scenic Frosting

It is here at the waterfall where lovers unite and embrace,
and smile and pose, shrouded in hazy vignette.
Behind, the white column divides the cliff,
suggesting symmetry where none exists.
The balance is beautiful from below,
from a distance—

The white tongue laps up the same water it’s poured,
flinging glittering droplets into the air,
saturating the moment of romance,
which is beautiful from below,
from a distance.

However,

The real swell-in-the-chest euphoria
is to abandon what is safe and climb,
to look from above, from behind,
to peer down the mountain at
beauty born, lovely and new
So I climbed.

The stream it at peace with its fate as it accelerates to the edge
but I am unsettled and I follow the flow, chasing it
to its terminus, where the known unknown
draws me closer, closer to the edge.
I swell with energy and advance
toward the roar, to the edge
until I am looking down
over the edge
into the mist.

When there is no continuing on and the river drops
a settled soul might sigh and retreat
and descend safely to
postcard moments.
Scenic frosting.

But today, the river carries me
over the edge and I am
falling, falling, falling,
waiting to disappear
into the mist.

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Afraid to Face the Light

HERE I EXIST IN THE SPACE BETWEEN STARS
AT THE FRINGE OF A SPOTLIGHT’S BEAM.
THE DARKNESS OF DUSK IS A BLANKET UNFOLDING
SPREADING TO COVER ME.

THEN THE SHUTTERS CLOSE
THE WINDOWS GLOW
AND THE MUSIC SPARKS THE NIGHT.
THEN THE DARKNESS TURNS
THE PIANO BURNS A SONG THAT SETS THE MOON ON FIRE.

BUT THEN THE MOONLIGHT FADES
THE SPOTLIGHT DIMS
THE STREETLAMPS TURN TO FROST.
THEN THE DAYLIGHT BREAKS
DREAMS DISSIPATE.
EVERY STAIN AND SCAR IS SEEN.

 DOES THE SONG GO ON
WHEN THE BEAT HAS STOPPED?
DOES IT LINGER THROUGH THE DAWN?
OR DO WE LOSE IT ALL
WHEN THE CURTAINS FALL?
DOES IT VANISH LIKE A DREAM?

I’M AFRAID TO FACE THE LIGHT
I HATE TO SAY GOODNIGHT
EVERY SHOW MUST HAVE ITS END
AND SO WILL MINE, MY FRIENDS.