When you have been to the mountain
You have to be careful with what
You leave behind as much as
With what you take with you
When you return to the world again.
Heat rises invisibly
Like a blow of frustration
Etching distorting patterns
On the ceiling
Slowly leeching the energy
Achingly tardy in its progress
Lethargic in its deprivation.
In this I know
The distractions will drip from me
Leaving islands of ridged harmony
Breaking through to a final awareness.
There is a small satisfaction
In the retreating limpid pools
That weigh upon our thinking.
Your back speaks eloquently
Of this shared moment of anticipation
I am tempted to reach out and brush
Your hip and cup your thighs
Gently in the compass of my arms
But the heavy dampness prevents me.
We are completely sapped
Unable to move
Too absorbed in our inability
To reach, caress or share a smile.
Yet within this emptiness
A common restfulness
A comfort which remains
As we drift in and out of
Torpid drowsy inactivity.
I know that with the coming rain
Outlines will be etched in the soil
Mist from the mountains
Covering the heavens
Will become spotted pooled
New patterns forged
Bridging what was with
What is yet to be.
Sometimes I think we are hybrid beings
Trapped between two worlds
Which exist between us.
You murmur something
In your dreams and turn to me
Your face framed within
Tantalizing dark uncertainty
Smiles that lift and titillate
Are replaced with a clenching frown
Not all is happy in your world of shadows.
For a moment I am tempted to reach out
Caress and reassure you
But constrain myself
Unsure of what my motives truly are.
The curtains begin a gentle dance
Breaching breezes cooling glance
Release us from the tedium of stillness
You dive back into your inner realms
Your face empty and at peace
Your mouth slightly open
Hair loosely cropped
A cap of dampness
Disturbed at last by the faintest snore.
By John Hall
Copyright – John Hall 13/2/04