Christopher Michael, gay, gay poetry, homosexual, lgbt, queer

Passing Time

Passing Time

To Peter Kostos:
Thank you for the darkness
Thank you for the light

At eventide, we walk arm and arm, you and I
Across the strand, as twilight descends as the
Stars oversprinkle the sky, fireflies blinking
In the deepening canopy of night. The incoming tide
Swirls round our feet white bubbling foam rushing
Round our toes. The ebb of sea erasing our footsteps,
Vanquishing our Presence, we were never there. The
Outgoing tide Wipes away our having been as the
Hourglass counts the hours of our lives, relentless
Cruel grains of sand dropping through the funnel counts
Our days and hours relentlessly counting.

I wished that I were young again, that we might travel
This road through time, you in your world, and I in mine.
You are the moon, rising now in beauty, I The setting sun,
Fulfilling now my journey. I wished that I were young again,
Full of lover’s Passion, filled with simple grace. Yet Death
Surrounds me, my boon and constant companion
Fair-weather friend.

Death, sups with us, he breaks our bread, we drink dry
His proffered chalice, the pungent Potion rife with toxic magic.
Death’s attenuated body, dressed in somber black, or blue
As ushers in a funeral parlor always do. His bony hands
With fingers waxen tapers; His cold cold hands leave burning
Traces upon The faces gently he touches. His luminous face
Is beautiful, his huge black and staring eyes Saucers rimming
With tears in that exquisite pale countenance. Icy lips proffer
His name, Death’s kiss, lingers on those he beckons
Upon their sweet lips.

He wraps us in his mantle, dazed as we are, drunk of his
Narcotic potion sipped from his silver chalice, he bids
Us, as with his hand raises us up above the ground. We
Pass through valleys verdant and lush, hushed in the
Dimming twilight spreading, o’re mountain peaks with
Crystalized jeweled caps shimmering from as Diana’s
Enchanted silvery light. Soaring we rise above the
Oceans’ might roars, quickly plunging deep beneath
Silvery lakes breaking their surface without a ripple.

At last weary and complete, he drops us to our beds,
You in yours and I in mine. We sleep til Morning’s light
Comes a’calling, waking from Morpheus’s drugged slumber,
Rested well, our body’s aches rejuvenated,
The mind’s cares erased.

We return to the living, you to your world, and I to mine.
You in the bloom of youth, your future spread before.
I to mine where Death’s presence lingers.
You go unto your world, in joy I pray; with sadness I to mine.
Yours a happy future, a well-trod path laid at your feet,
Mine an encroaching reminder my descent to hell is sweet.


2 thoughts on “Passing Time

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