When I Visit You Poem by S. R. Neale

Humanly dark
Eyes waiting to see,
What the pitch black will bring
On my knees at midnight,
By a stream,
I sing.

I sing in darkness for the darkness,
I covet its obsidian sheen
I am within myself
What I have done, whom I have lost,
Why I have forgotten, remembered,
And where I have been.

In this thick black,
Engendered by tar pit thoughts,
I release, and give slack,
For at times, by thinking
I am wrought.

I am malleable and re shaped;
Solidified, and polished like a precious stone.
Alone.
Kneeling to pools I see through,
I touch you on the liquid surface, and
I am with you.

Here, I am the friar,
Silent and solemn,
like the blue of a flame.
Permitting the red and yellow reaches of warmth to
Rage.
Letting play the boundaries
Of sameness and sane.

The moon, all too familiar with this play,
Illuminates with her waxing,
The illusion of pain;
The hardened, obdurate sadness;
Ephemeral rain.

With one splash of you,
I am washed, and
My heart opens again.