Rilke so attracted the beyond of my mirror Such that I could not but take a rose from his garden. Hoping all the while that this call for others’ beyonds Could arrive in my life, somewhere between morning meditation And the dedication to my craft.

The Phoenix loves the break of day It loves the light, the promise gay The morning dew that lightly dances While rays perform their golden glance Embracing all that come what may A morning brief that gently stays In promises, joyfully played Whispers: ready to take a chance The Phoenix loves the break of day With warm March and freezing May Conflicting hopes on full display Through midday and night's romance Rising beyond every chance The Phoenix loves the break of day

Did you too see it, drifting, all night, on the black river? Did you see it in the morning, rising into the silvery air – An armful of white blossoms, A perfect commotion of silk and linen as it leaned into the bondage of its wings; a snowbank, a bank of lilies, Biting the air with its black beak? Did you hear it, fluting and whistling A shrill dark music – like the rain pelting the trees – like a waterfall Knifing down the black ledges? And did you see it, finally, just under the clouds – A white cross Streaming across the sky, its feet Like black leaves, its wings Like the stretching light of the river? And did you feel it, in your heart, how it pertained to everything? And have you too finally figured out what beauty is for? And have you changed your life?

Tree branches crack the sky into new infinities And the Sun will burn for another 5 billion years Take the high road once again Live in the light amongst the cosmos’ splendour You were born for more than the material world Throw it away! Cling not to these physical things Your youthful skin will wrinkle and wither with years You won’t have a cent to your name in the next life Even knowledge will fail you upon your death Your sins and virtues will speak for you And you’ll look at this time, gone from your grasp, with wonder How could you have taken this for granted? These opportunities The simple bliss of creation To love and be loved is surely enough But fail not to act while you can You can have anything you desire With consistency and sacrifice

Fog hovers over dark water Caressing the undisturbed silence. Staring, penetrating past the whisps of white Into the blackness I can see the depths to the bottom Not an ounce of sediment stirs. The pond is rich in stillness Such that no fickle inkling of thought Could levy itself against this completeness.