Night Season yields
an interval, a time to peel
away layers, winter clothes
stratified around my being
stripped off in complete
namelessness,
leaving me tender, naked.

Night Season.

It furnishes still space
to be without shape of being,
ego unable to structure
itself around, within my
unformed substance.

In this hallowed dark I release
all that encumbers me
to see your glow, feel the
shine of your precious face
conscious that you matter.

There I watch your hand hold
something so dear, so full of trust,
I fill with Unbearable Light.

Night Season.

You demand of me
what I cannot do alone.
In You I surrender to
Your proposal of radiance.

.

.

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Author’s Note:

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