木漏れ日
Nothing Under the Sun

                  “Komorebi is a living painting, unframed,
                       still wet.  It will touch you sometimes.”

                                                                 — Coleman Davis

                 “He promised to give a light to him
                      and to his sons for ever.” 

                                                                 — Hebrews 6:7b

They are dancing.  Look at the way
their silhouettes are shifting stages
of stagnancy—

                           —so distracting, so
intoxicating the downward spiral
of shadows masquerading verity
& veracious semblance of this
life.

        Nothing is as beautiful as despair,
they say; anything is possible when
deception conceives desperation
begets choice.

                            But what is the finite
distance between Plato’s Cave &
Komorebi’s ballet? Can you measure
a minute beat amid the minuet
of meaning of

                                a life?  Nothing
under the Sun is meaningless;
everything is a season & a secret
& still

            wet.           The body knows
the difference between seduction
& connection &
release.   

                 Linger, here, my Love—
& know & be ye known in this
sweet truth:   That even shadows
are the proof, the awkward hope,

the scions & the genesis

of light.