These glitters end,
at the days end.
Where the coast meets the water and light sinks slowly, then rapidly, into a line of darkness.
A rising moon: the white of an eye, keeping watch over the finale and its timing and tides.
But I wonder—
if everyday at 5:25pm, city trains packed themselves full of people from every city burrow, ward, farm and burb, in every corner of our state
by mandate of the court (or a real moral authority,) commanding us to attend the beauty
of the last act of each day; loading everyone
with snack backpacks and routine, standard-issue picnic baskets, and directly routed us to beaches..
I wonder, what could we become?
If each non-stop express train or driverless car re-ordered our evenings in unison, unloading us and our hollow trappings,
at a fresh lake, sand-side, with that fired, beating orb lowering in a tangerine sky just for us.
Would it hold us up?
A dose, a hit, of authentic celebration of our just being.
What would we feel together?
The sun: a circle of Eucharist for all; raised then lowered. A blessing on each heart who witnessed it,
filling us up with its sparkled refinement on fire, and ray-play on wave after wave, bowing in deference to it.
The sun holds wide then narrows and perfectly centers for us in silence, the glittering electric shocks of spark and origin where the elements touch, then rest like sex.
Patterns that push up and lap up to each soul, as natural fireworks, to feed us as we witness it.
I wonder if the unconstrained diamonds that rise on each wave cresting in that light, on the back of iridescent navys, teals, greens and foamy blacks meshing with well-churned browns and golden tans of microscopic algae and grains of sand,
would inspire each eye who bears witness to the truth of it. The proof of it and
the light marrying up with the dark each evening would confirm this divinity in balance inside of all of us, applauding one another at this union; the wedding of an ordinary day.
Cheering and yawping and crying and clapping in a bubbled up release of our common grace, together as human beings, we’d witness it every single day and feel it
before settling back into seats, sand in our feet, for the long ride back to the cities and towns and the little struggles of our lives.
I wonder how well we’d care for the lake and each other if we received it together as our daily kiss goodnight, and felt well loved;
each one.
