The Shadows of This Life

Are light, are never over.
The spectral mountain turns chalk
On a thickly clouded night

When no stars are visible,
And the lights of the small town
Bed-bugged with tourist hotels

Snugged down in the canyon’s woods
Cast a faint shadow upward
Of cloaked electricities

Onto the walls of the cliffs.
Electromagnetic waves
Waver inescapably.

Some dark mornings, when this life
Is gentle, eyes fly away
From the dense to paler shades.

It’s so faint. It’s so faint, but
There it is, a huge shadow
Of light in the dark, looming.