Ephemeral Poem by Whitney Jones Olson

i would wish to write about you,
the wish would mar the ephemeral intensity,
that which is ephemeral being so close to angelic,
and neither of us being an angel,
how tenuous is our privilege.

Time being, as i have said many a time, relative -
then my adoration of you could last not only a conventional lifetime -
but also only a day if the moments continue to pass with such viscosity -
or a hundred years if each second is enjoyed to the full measure of its possibility.

And if a multidimensional sky in technicolor looms above us in the minute of this evening's eclipse -
then maybe my mind will be caught in you as in a fall evening through the trees or a summer goodbye in the August rain.

Somewhere deep inside i begin to feel the rising once again -
the wave of heavy beauty that is jazz,
and the continuously flowing burning of the leaves in an Indiana fall.

The lazy days of books and chocolate, mints from the candy store and mountain dew - the cinnamon bears such thorough pleasure that there seemed to be nothing else and the primitive radio gods making me wander...