Archive
09/02/09 - (2)
Toasting the Skies
How inexplicably strange, How idiosyncratically mystical it is, To find myself, my drifting psyche, my fluctuating identity, After all these poetic decades of scribbling verse, Almost as alone as I was when I came into this existence, Perhaps more naked than I was at my earthly birth, If infinitely less innocent, for having tasted of worldly surfeit.
Tonight, I gaze skyward, Into eight o'clock's tranquil, still-blue twilight, Raise a Beaujolais-Villages toast to the infinite cosmos, Say grace, to a heavenly host I can't see, For the city lights' drowning out its spectacular luminosity, And ask the godly bodies in the vast Milky Way To cast a watchful, benevolent eye over me,
Not let my soul roam too far beyond Cassiopeia, My imagination stray past the margins of Sagittarius, My heart get lost in the forest of dense stars Comprising the galaxy that keeps my inspired spirit Calibrated with the only life I'm likely to wander amidst, Sensing that, at sixty-eight, floating in space, I'm susceptible to the rigors of disappearing without a trace
And that the prospect of flagrantly disgraceful anonymity Is a fate my essence is incapable of accepting at face value. This exquisite September Wednesday, I let the cool evening breezes penetrate my being, Revitalize my corporeality, remind me that I'm a child Climbing down from the astral heights, for a limited time, To claim what's left of me, in the name of celestial integrity.
09/02/09 - (2)
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