Morning light breathes
life into every flower,
reflecting odd geometries
that follow me hour to hour.
Between each step scattered
on the coniferous ground,
are my dreams, forgotten
inside a still, dark pond.
Searching noon for new eyes
is the easiest task, I feel,
when one forgets what isn’t real.
And as I kneel at dusk,
with pockets full of daylight,
uncertainty shields me
from the river trailing behind.
A devouring gush of blue moves
inside the chest of twilight,
and all that I hold dissolves
into a thousand new eyes;
and all that I fear becomes
what brings the night alive.
I am a fool to think
I ever walked alone,
for you are everywhere—
and you are here, too.
Only a certain eye lets me sleep;
and one remains open
to another rapturous beginning.
In these blue veins, a wild sea
courses with a stream of stars
from each wound widening.
Something more real than I lives
in the abyss that pulls on all things,
and yet my soul glows brighter
when it is darker still.
There is no sun without shadow, and it is essential to know the night. The absurd man says yes and his efforts will henceforth be unceasing.
– Albert Camus.
