A Light Year Run
Chris Youngblood December 15, 2023
Run started at dusk, just before the sun crest.
The sun, the day, conquered. Can one run, rest reflect?
Here Comes The Night Time, Arcade Fire.
Oh how they (the copies, not originals) loved that album, a Reflektor.
But instead of mirrors which brought out their best.
Bruce in a hall of mirrors smashed fists.
Enter the Dragon indeed. Bruce could dance and fight.
“When you look in the sky, just try looking inside”
Yes, yes, one knows NOW.
Oh the moon a TRUE reflector.
Run through the park where no pagan holiday lights gleam.
Deep in those woods. No one here. No one ever was. It was always him.
A wise man in the dark, grown younger, elixir blood.
Gold, frankencinse and mur within, come through the dark, cold, alone.
He wouldn’t have it any other way.
But what calls him in this night? Not a yearning, something different.
He is content, full, rested, recovered.
Even when “It’s Never Over (Hey Orpheus)” comes through the phones.
The full immortality of being shines forth. Lighting this park with rooted feet.
Path dark oh so dark, so beautiful.
Eye Flashlight beaming from the crown, making way for headspace.
Something calls. What is it? He can’t quite place.
He chases the moonlight to catch up with the shadow.
The shadow that caught him, but was it his this time?
Yin and Yang energy busting at the seams.
He can hear her. He’s afraid to admit.
Maybe that’s why he’s out here in the cold night.
She drew him in. Rest on her breasts. Hathor.
She knows he’s not afraid of his shadow.
She caught him but they aren’t ready.
He’s had enough of the Dark Feminine.
He knows she’s not that. He knows she’s not that.
Maybe they both can rest within, for now.
He left the realm way before her.
But he jumped back, like he jumped over that tree just now.
Still skip in his step, still hasn’t gotten the memo about Father Time.
He’s stubborn like that. It’s served him well. There is no impossible.
He jumped back to catch her, let her down, so she can walk again.
On her own.
Synchronicity, simplicity. Beauty. Life after dark. Oh how he loves the dark though.
They both danced there once, before he left.
Now they circle each other, gaining strength from one another.
How they always knew their re UNION would occur.
The divine consciousness of one to another. Respect, Honor.
He has run home, feet plowing through the Suburbia of lights.
The flickers like the stars when he travelled light years to be here.
Here, now. The arrival.
To rest at home. To rest at night.
Her words still call to him wrapped in the mosaic.
He has spent enough time in the sun. Time to let himself rest, be drawn in.
Open her words. Open the void.