It is Dusk and my time has come.
The sky takes a pinkish hue,
The cool breeze begins its departure,
And the trees wave it goodbye.

Dusk has come, My time has come.
With it, it brings the black blanket,
That covers the immense sky,
The sun leaves with tears,
And the moon replaces her,
The stars begin to appear,
And I think of her with me; here.

Dusk has come, My time is now.
The flowers begin to close,
And the clouds cover the sky,
The seas begin to reflect her,
The lonely breeze sings of her,
The crickets cry her name.

Yes, Dusk is now!
Sadness is now
Despair is now
Woe is now
Sorrow is now...

My Dusk has come,
And my soul wants to break out,
And disappear into the night,
Into the dark clouds above,
To run into the rain,
Out of the forests of my pain.

Dusk has come...

Late afternoon, tween twilight but before the dusk
in time for afternoon prayers, ******* followed by
the evening service, The Name reached out unto me
to touch my face, wake me from a lifelong slowing slumber.

My man! My good man, I’ve been numbering those days,
you will have no disagreement that you’re quite the closer,
close by, the chapter finale of our story, your living, a well
thumbed novella, enjoyed by many, and a favorite o’mine.

Do not restless rustle, no busing bustle, the Set Table^ cleared,
tabulations done, the sums and dividend distributed, in sync,
your words well distributed, remainders to be dearly shared, saved,
showings of great love, valleys of feeling, these your humble attire.

Look how easy the (our) words come, the fluids of a man for which
we have been long patient be awaiting, the company all in readiness,
for confession and days of permanent new creation, fast beginnings,
think on it, to be called child once more, how glorious this unknown!

Dimensions recorded, measurements tailor-taken, silk tuxedo deep bleu, luxe, a hint of violet, here-presented, patent, the leather for blue suede winged dancing shoes no airport dare ask you remove, before they beg you, say, save grace, just once, pronounce The Name, the one of Seventy!

To walk, talk, rhyme and theorize, to forget and memorize, always refreshing, knowing nothing lasts, except things that last forever, or last never, poems and decisions needing completion, choices, reordering songs loved best, repleting all sorrowed pains, uplifting prayers, hallelujah hymns, last rites...

You, a world to us, a microcosm of a triathlon life, juggling the many, last of a lineage who could^^ pray, making rain, reading poetry to angels, giving comforting absolution for making storms, plagues, tidal waves, volcanoes, concentration camps, death marches, stillborn children, incurable sadness.

Quick when the curtain calls, listen close for the cue, toe the mark,
take position, hands upward joined, eyes down, ahead are fearless words,
a soliloquy lasting hundreds of years, balances aligned, only now you  needed, to make mercy allocations, putting paid next to all my periods, all in place, properly positioned, now comes an  evening song.

then to commence the writing of only love poetry forevermore.


5:00pm
Sabbath May 23
5780

There lies the abandoned park bench
We sat there a year ago

Now stained with infinite dust, rain
Pouring torrents of strange anger and

Pulsing sorrow- a heaving chest
Rising and falling , tide like crest

Certain gravity to the fall, to the fallen
(pun unintended)
Unceasing in releasing;

Dusk, dawn
Fall , rise
Black, white

Just universal polarity like
The one between you and me.

A hand to hold, a smile to crave,
A heart to feel, a love to cherish;

All now lies washed down
Dust in the rain
Solitary drops now remain.

She has those striking eyes of an Owl .

She observes, Her stare intense yet clam .
She can see through illusion , thrive beyond illusion .
She can see true self of others , their weakness , their strengths .

Do not scared with her stare but ,
Fear her wisdom , spoken by silence !
The more she sees ,the less she sound .

Her defense is her colours
She can blend into the surroundings ,
She's a nemesis
Difficult to spot even if visible .

If you are a threat to her territory
Better watch your back from her talons .
You surely don't want to be her prey

She is intense .
She will mantle you ,
Not to protect but to finish you off ,
Without leaving any trace behind .

Her keen hearing sense , you cannot escape .
She can hear you scuffling from outrun .
She can sense your decoy ,
Even if you're buried in snow .

So tell me how you will veil those eyes which can see through dark .